


Gravel & Wine

by unstablesavior (aisforaims)



Series: like a heartbeat (drives you mad) [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-20 12:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 45,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4787744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisforaims/pseuds/unstablesavior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was chaos. She was order. He was sweat, blood, and spotlight. She was control and obligations. They should have left it as that, but Dean Ambrose was never one for following the rules.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stay Awhile

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written a wrestling fic in years, but I have this story in my head and I had to try putting it up somewhere. The first chapter takes place around SummerSlam, which is a few weeks back. I'm going to try and have a chapter up every week or every other week. This story will somewhat follow the storylines on TV. It's Dean/OC with the potential for a love triangle, but we'll have to wait and see when that happens and who the third party might be. Enjoy!

August 24, 2015: Brooklyn, NY.

Dean Ambrose woke slowly, a deep groan rumbled in the back of his throat as he did. The effects of last night's SummerSlam match had kicked in over time. It happens. He'd go out, ride the adrenaline, then drag his feet the next morning. Lucky for him, the show later that night would be in the same arena. Living out of the same hotel room for the past few days had been pretty fucking sweet.

He pushed himself up, planted his feet on the floor beside the bed, and took a moment to scan his surroundings. Crimson suitcase aligned against the nearest wall, electronics lined up on the desk. None of which were his. What was his was the black tank top that half-hung on the foot of the bed, the pair of jeans crumpled on the floor nearby, and the boots that were kicked off near the dresser.

Post-show events popped up in Dean's mind as he looked over his shoulder. The thin, white sheet outlined the lady's figure as she slept, her bare back facing him. Yup. That happened. A slow smirk found its way onto his lips as he moved to grab his clothes. He grabbed the jeans and -- sans boxers -- slipped into them before searching for his boots. Once he found and shoved them on, Dean reached into the back pocket of his pants as he felt his phone vibrate. He scanned the text from Roman and replied 'yeah' to hitting the gym with him in a bit. Phone pocketed soon after, Dean quickly changed, then took a moment to check his image in the mirror.

He looked like he had been thoroughly fucked the night before.

Perfect.

With one last glance back towards his bedmate from the night before, Dean made his way out of the hotel room. Had Roman not sent a text his way, Dean would have considered getting his workout the old fashion way before the show that night. It would’ve been good, like the night before. It wasn’t in the cards now though. He had plans with a six foot Samoan, a treadmill, and an hour or two in a gym. He knew there would be a match tonight and he would come ready for another fight, because this thing with the Wyatt family was far from over.

And let’s face it: Dean fucking loved beating dudes up for a living.

* * *

 

In the four years she had been working in the WWE, Claire Peltier had encountered each and every type. While some Superstars and Divas were difficult to work with at times, others were fairly easy. There were several different types of talent when it came to this business. The majority of the talent ran in packs. They traveled and shared some laughs together after hours. Others ran solo, stuck to themselves, and did their jobs. While there certainly was a bond forged by those who lived the business, it didn’t mean the workplace was exempt from backstage politics. When power was like a rope war and backroom deals came into play, the work environment could get to even the most professional of wrestlers. She had watched wrestlers rise and fall from power, seen groups form and break, and witnessed titles be won and change hands.

The first three years of her career were spent with the WWE developmental brand: NXT, formerly FCW. From setting up for interviews to taping signs down nearly every hallway backstage, Claire’s knack for organization had helped her keep the chaotic area manageable. It had also played a part in her promotion as well. The past year was spent assisting talent during shows and during special appearances. She was present during press junkets, made sure the talent arrived and left on schedule, and ultimately helped with any issue or need a Superstar or Diva might come across while on the road.

Claire didn’t enter the business as a lifelong fan and had only the minimal knowledge of what went on in the ring. However, Claire had grown to enjoy the craft from a viewing standpoint over the years. It was hard not to appreciate it from an entertainment standpoint when she surrounded herself with professional wrestlers for the majority of the year. She traveled with co-workers, often shared meals and rooms with other women who worked backstage while on the road. It was an enjoyable atmosphere. Tense at times, but ultimately a satisfying work environment.

Even when it seemed overly moist at times.

At least that was what Claire initially thought as she watched Roman Reigns bend over slightly, water bottle in hand as he dampened his hair. It wasn’t the first time she had to converse with the talent as they went about their pre-match rituals. Claire had made it a habit to learn what the wrestlers did before their matches. Some hung out in their locker rooms, others walked through backstage. Guys like Roman found quiet hallways and empty rooms where they could prepare in peace. They also required at least one bottle of water to wet their hair. Preventing puffy hair was something the wrestlers took very serious. Claire made sure to carry one around just in case. Very few in the company were against being approached during their preparations, knowing there would always be a rushed feeling when it came to shows. Everybody had their jobs and everyone had to work with each other if they wanted to have a good night.

“You’re second on the card tonight,” she said, after a brief glance at the tablet in her hand. Making sure the talent knew when they were expected to go out was a regular task for Claire. “We’re opening with Lesnar and Heyman, then the non-title match with New Day. You guys will be on after that.”

“Thanks, Claire,” Roman replied. He tossed his now empty bottle into the nearby trash, then sent a small look over his shoulder at Dean. The Lunatic Fringe seemed in his own world as he hyped himself up for the upcoming match, fists swung at the air as he shadow boxed nearby. He turned back towards the talent aide with a smile. “Did you get a chance to see any of the matches this weekend or were they working you to the bone?”

“I managed to see a few here and there,” Claire confessed, “I got to see more at TakeOver than last night’s show. Four hours of show, not to mention the after party that happened after.” Tucking her tablet and water bottle into the crook of her arm, Claire used her free hand to push her the stray strands of copper hair from her eyes. “It was a lot of work, but the week was really fun so I don’t mind it much.”

“Probably helps that you’re not the one getting punched repeatedly,” Roman joked, a grin on his face as Claire laughed in agreement. Roman shifted and moved down to pick up his vest, which leaned against the wall nearby.

“That’s definitely one of the benefits to working behind the scenes.”

As Roman slipped the vest over his tank top, Claire’s gaze moved to focus on the man behind him. A little way down the hall was Dean Ambrose. Ignoring Dean’s presence was nearly impossible. The man radiated his special brand of charm. A little unruly at times, but utterly his own. Claire watched as the man dropped down to the ground and began to do push-ups. Her eyes slid over him in appreciation, but the look didn’t go unnoticed.

At the sound of Roman clearing his throat, Claire’s eyes shifted from Dean and his push-ups to a smirking Reigns. Slightly embarrassed, Claire straightened her back as she composed herself again. Yeah, she looked. She was human, but she also prided herself on being professional while at work. Staring at the talent was the opposite of work. Plus Roman more than anyone knew how Claire and Dean were around each other backstage. With his wild personality and her reputation for order, the two were like oil and water. To say they butted heads over the years would be an understatement.  

“Grace told me you started to make appointments after every match,” Claire turned her attention back to Roman.

“Yeah,” Roman nodded, “She’s been helping me out. She’s good.”

“She’s the best,” she playfully corrected, “A little massage therapy every week will be beneficial in the long run. I think everyone should do it, especially in this business.”

“I don’t know about you,” a deep voice interjected, “But I like to get worked over the old fashion way.” Roman and Claire turned their attentions towards the approaching Ambrose. He had a thin layer of sweat from his workout and a confident smile on his face. Roman tried to hide his amusement as Dean reached out and plucked the water bottle out of Claire’s arms. After twisting the cap off, he took a long swig from the bottle. “Probably would burn more calories too."

"Tactful as always, Ambrose," Claire said, which earned a grin from Dean. She sent a polite smile Roman's way. "Second on the card tonight. Good luck on your match." Dean watched as Claire started to slide past them. She tapped the bottle in his hand lightly with her tablet. "You can keep that, by the way."

Roman let out a low whistle as Claire disappeared around the corner, laughed as he slapped a hand against Dean's shoulder.

"You really aren't doing yourself any favors with her when you do stuff like that," he told his friend.

"I don't need any favors from her," Dean replied. The two men began to move from the hallway. Dean would make his way down the ramp, but Roman would walk through the crowd. Until then, the two men would talk game plans and shoot the shit. "You know that I don't mesh well with do-gooders. Not my type."

"Your type is usually random women and one night stands."

"And Claire's about as wholesome as warm apple pie," Dean said, "Like I said, not my type."

"I love you, brother," Roman confessed, "But you have some of the lowest standards when it comes to women."

"What I lack in standards, I make up in style and gusto."

* * *

 

It was after their match, after the introduction of the newest Wyatt family member, that the two men would make their way back towards their locker room. Slowly and painfully. Medical had checked them out, given the two men the okay to head out. No need for a hospital trip that night. The two men were relatively quiet as they walked through the hall. They both knew what the other was thinking. With this new guy in the picture? They were fucked. Roman and Dean had never faced anything like that. Roman was used to taking down even the largest of men with one punch and Dean... Well, he was used to wearing out opponents with a fiery fighting style. Neither were able to best this new arrival. As they rounded the corner into the next hallway, Dean spotted Claire. The red-headed aide clicked down the hall in her heels, her eyes slightly glazed over as she walked. Her mind was elsewhere, which was the reason for her slight jump when her attention snapped in their direction.

“You guys okay?” she asked, eyebrows furrowed slightly in concern.

“We’ll live,” Dean replied.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Claire said. Her eyes moved from one man to the other, taking in the disheveled look of them. Roman half-dragged his vest in his hand and the last of Dean’s shredded tank top hung on for dear life at his hips. Both men dripped with sweat and looked like they had seen better days. “I’ve kinda grown fond of the people I work with,” she lightly added, “It’d be a shame to see anyone I like hurt.”

“You sure picked a helluva profession then, Red,” Dean replied and earned an arched eyebrow from Claire.

“Thanks for asking though,” Roman quickly interjected.

“You’re welcome,” Claire said. The woman had even made it a point to shift her body completely in Roman’s direction when she spoke. She ignored Dean completely. He bit down the smirk he felt coming. “Grace will take you whenever you’re ready for your session, Roman,” she continued, a polite smile on her lips as she spoke, “You guys have a good night.”

Dean rolled his eyes slightly as Claire breezed past them, looked over his shoulder just in time to watch her disappear around the hallway corner. When he turned his gaze to his friend, Dean spotted the look Roman gave him. Raised eyebrow and a slight look of disappointment, Roman was officially turning on the guilt face.

“What?” Dean asked, as he began his walk towards the locker room once more, “What’s with the face?”

“You could be kinder,” Roman replied, “She was basically saying that she didn’t want to see us hurt.”

“We’re already hurt,” Dean stubbornly pointed out.

“Just… try and play nice. We don’t have a lot of friends backstage and from the looks of tonight? We don’t need more enemies.”

No, they didn’t need more enemies. Dean knew it. The Shield had made more than enough enemies in the years they were together and Dean hadn’t made any friends since they had disbanded. He was fine on his own. Hell, Dean only knew he could count on himself most of the time, but he had Roman. His friend had his back. Not just in the way Seth had claimed. Roman was his brother. Maybe not by blood, but in every other way that mattered. For a guy who didn’t have much in the way of family, it was something.

* * *

 

It was late in the evening when Dean made it back to his hotel room. After the beating he and Roman received early in the night, Dean didn’t feel like shutting down a bar and stumbling into bed in the early hours of the morning. He had kicked off his boots on his way inside, dumped his luggage somewhere near the door. Next had come his shirt, which had been replaced at the show. Dean never lacked in shirts when the merch guys constantly had them in stock. Merch and tank tops... He really should invest in some other kind of shirt at some point.

Dean considered falling onto the bed sheets and passing out, but that plan was axed when someone knocked on his hotel room door. When he opened the door, Dean propped his shoulder against the frame. Claire stood casually in the hallway, hands behind her back. She wore the same skirt and blouse she had worn at the arena, though her long hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. The woman looked, especially in his current state of undress, far more put together than he ever could.

“Roman’s gone soft,” Dean casually confessed, “He told me to be nice to you earlier.”

“You should be nice to me,” Claire said, “I have a lot to offer when it comes to friendship.”

Almost as if to prove it, Claire moved her arm from behind her back. Hooked on the crook of her finger was a leather jacket. Well-worn, black, thin stripes along the shoulder and down the arm… Dean’s jacket. The sight of his jacket brought a small smile to his lips as he stepped back to let Claire into the room.

“I was wondering where that was."

Though he spoke of the jacket, Dean’s eyes stayed on Claire. He watched as she sidestepped around the suitcase and the trail of boots by the door, then the shirt he had previously discarded. She moved with the grace of a woman who had avoided mess on a regular basis. After she laid the jacket neatly over the back of a desk chair, Claire turned on her heels to face Dean. He slowly stepped closer to her, invaded her space, and caused her to step backwards until she was trapped between his body and the desk nearby. He crouched down slightly to meet Claire’s eye level, hands planted against the desk at her sides.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Claire’s voice softly asked, “After what happened tonight with your match--”

“I’m fine,” Dean told her, “You’ve seen most of my matches. You should be used to seeing me getting my ass beat by now.”

“What makes you think I’m watching you during your matches?”

Her question was delivered like an honest question, but the small glint in Claire’s eye hinted at the teasing that laid beneath the words. Not one to be outdone, Dean gripped her hips and lifted her up slightly to sit her onto the desk. He stepped between her legs and a smirk crept across his lips as he felt Claire’s hands rest on the buckle of his belt.

“You watch me,” Dean replied, confidently. His voice was low, almost a growl, as he felt her shift closer to him. Reaching up, Dean slowly tugged the tie from her hair. He let it drop somewhere onto the floor beside them before he lifted his hand again to rake through her hair. "You might not have the time to watch every match, but when you do? You watch for me."

With those words, Dean leaned forward as his lips pressed against hers. The kiss was hungry on both sides and the tension was finally given proper release. Something that was postponed before his match, when Roman was present; then later set aside, following the attack from the newest Wyatt. It was a sign of lust, of chemistry, possibly even affection. There was no battle for dominance during the kiss, nor was it one-sided.. It felt like almost like a dance. An act of passion that ebbed and flowed in unison. Hands ran along bodies that were pressed together, sought out to touch every inch they were able to. It was only when Dean pulled back to undo the buttons of Claire's shirt that their lips parted.

"You need to stop forgetting things in my room," Claire said. As Dean pushed the fabric of her shirt off her shoulders, her hands worked the buckle of Dean's jeans before she tugged the leather free from the loopholes. "Phones and iPods are easy to carry around. I can hide them in a purse, but a jacket--"

Dean brought his lips to hers again. Yeah, the majority of him did it because he wanted to be spared the lecture. She must have wised up to his tricks though, because that move earned him a swat on the arm. Dean didn't think too much of it. Not when he could feel her lips curved in a smile when she did it. He broke the kiss abruptly and moved to lift Claire up. Despite her half-hearted protests, he slung her over his shoulder and lightly swatted her ass. Her laughter filled the room as he made his way over to the bed, avoided her swipes when he dumped her on top of the sheets. Before she could return the swat, Dean quickly moved to cover her body with his.

“You’re a jerk,” she said, humor laced in the words.

“You’ve seen enough of me the past few years to know that.”

"Do we have to worry about Roman?" Claire asked, her mind focused back on what Dean said earlier.

"He doesn't know a thing," Dean told her, "He hasn't for months."

“I’m surprised he doesn’t know already,” she teased, “You two have been attached at the hip these days. I half-expected him to be here right now.”

“I don’t share,” Dean said. He pressed his forearms against the mattress to keep most of his weight off of her. There was something about the feel of her body under his that did something to him. It certainly didn’t help when he felt her fingertips trail along his back. “And I like this thing what we got going on now.”

“What thing?” she asked. Claire shifted beneath him slightly and bit back a laugh when she heard a small groan rumble in the back of Dean’s throat. “The arrangement where we enjoy each other’s company whenever we feel the need? No labels, just fun? Is that what you’re talking about?”

“I mean, I was just going to call it ‘secret fucks’, but you make it sound way more respectable.”

A calloused hand ran beneath Claire's skirt as Dean gripped her hip. He could see anticipation build in her eyes as his thumb dipped under the fabric of her panties. Anticipation gave way to impatience as Claire nudged at his jeans and pushed the fabric off his hips slightly.

"You in a hurry or something?" Dean grinned, "'Cause what I got planned for you might take a while."

An arrangement or secret fucks, Dean didn't give a shit what they called it.

All he knew was that he enjoyed it.


	2. Get Back to Even

September 10, 2015: Wilkes-Barre, PA. Smackdown.

Dean paced the hallway outside of medical as he waited for Roman to come out. Two attacks in two weeks. Both guys that teamed with them, both taken out by the Wyatt family. To say Dean was heated would be an understatement. He had his own beef when it came to Bray Wyatt and the things he said in the past. The attacks, the history he dragged into the light, the fears he tried to prey on. Now he has the whole family -- plus a new addition that was built like a fucking tank -- coming for him and Roman. Dean didn’t know what was going through his friend’s head. They had followed as the medics escorted Jimmy backstage and Dean had watched as Roman disappeared behind the door. A little feeling of helplessness picked at him in that moment and that only made him all the more pissed off. They knew the game. Wyatt himself had said it, but they had continued on. Now Jimmy was taken out just like Randy had been the week before.

When the door opened, Dean turned just in time to see Roman step out of the room. His friend looked like he had been through the ringer, which was nothing compared to how he must have felt. Dean moved towards Roman, mouth open as he began speak. However, Roman didn’t want to hear it. He watched as Roman stepped past him with the shake of his head and proceeded to pace the hallway, like Dean had done moments before. The guy needed a moment. Dean got that. So he’d give it to Roman until he was ready to talk. Dean leaned against the wall and waited, kept Roman and his pacing in his peripheral as he did.

“I never should have let this happen,” Roman’s voice finally came through.

“Ro--”

“I told you that I didn’t want more of my family in this,” Roman cut him off. Dean watched as Roman swung around to face him, felt the air of electricity as he did. “That’s what I said, remember?”

“I know there were risks--”

“I don’t think you do,” Roman said. Dean felt his own back straighten as his friend stepped up towards him. He had seen Roman angry before, but Dean knew this thing with Wyatt was personal. “You don’t have anyone to lose the way I do, Dean. Consequences don’t reach further than you, because you’re on your own at the end of the day.”

Roman ran a hand through his hair in frustration before he turned from his friend. He had muttered something Dean barely caught, something about needing a breather and having to talk to Naomi. Dean let out the breath he didn’t know he held as he watched Roman storm off. There were definitely times when he and Roman butted heads, but Dean knew this was different. Wyatt had dragged Roman’s kid into things, got into his friend’s head, got his whole family on edge. Anyone they tried to bring in for a third man got attacked. Jimmy was down to fight, but Roman would feel the responsibility. Even when Dean knew the idea wasn’t on his friend.

It was on him.

Dean had the bright idea. It was him who talked Roman into it, him who was hyped with Jimmy. Even though Roman wasn’t down for it, he said he trusted him. He put his trust in the wrong plan and Dean knew it. He shook off the feelings as he pushed away from the wall. Dean knew he eventually had to track down Roman and smooth over whatever issues they had, but not right now. No, his friend needed time to cool off and he needed to take him mind off a few things. There was no way Dean wanted to be left with his thoughts. He didn’t want to spend the rest of the night thinking about what had happened tonight in their match or his own issues with Bray Wyatt. Dean also didn’t want to think about what Roman had said.

No matter how true it was.

* * *

 

Claire’s eyes scanned the area as she made her way through the halls backstage. They were two matches before the end of the show and she still had a few schedules to go through with a few of the wrestlers backstage. She had set up shop in a moderately clear hallway, laptop with the monthly schedule at the ready as she confirmed hotel rooms for the upcoming weeks. Between their live event in Calgary and the Wizard World convention, Claire knew there would be no down time. The constant traveling was a struggle at times. She couldn’t keep a pet, nor did she have live plants in her apartment in California. Most days she spent living out of a suitcase and her source of social life was found in those who also worked backstage. It was certainly a very different life than the one her parents had envisioned for her, but it was the one she had come to love.

Her focus was completely on the schedule, even with the roar of the crowd vibrating the walls around her. So much that she didn’t notice the figure walking down the hall. At least until she felt her chair jerk backwards. Claire yelped in surprise as she felt as if her heart jumped up her throat. Her head snapped up to the person behind her. Green eyes met blue as she met Dean’s gaze. The mix of surprise and intrigue on her face only lasted a few beats before it was replaced by confusion. Before Claire could get a word in, she felt Dean’s hand wrap around her elbow.

“C’mon,” was all he said.

Claire opened her mouth to protest as Dean ushered her out of her seat. She barely had time to flip her laptop closed before she was dragged off. Dean was quiet as he moved through the hall, didn’t spare a glance as he pushed open the door to the boiler room. Dean nudged Claire into the dim room and followed quickly behind her. Claire felt Dean’s hand slip from her elbow to her waist. He stepped into her space, backed her up against the door. Something was off. It was in the movement, the feel of things. Claire wasn’t able to notice it when she was being rushed off to secluded spaces, but it became more apparent in that moment. She looked up at Dean, struggled in the lighting to see his face. When her eyes adjusted to the dark, she noticed the furrow in his brow and the downward curve of his lips.

“What’s going on?” she finally spoke.

Her hands moved to his shoulders, fingers squeezing slightly as she peered up at him. Dean shook his head before closing the space between them. His mouth closed over hers, hot and demanding. It was his hands that moved to the hem of her skirt, pushed at the fabric as he hiked it up her legs. Claire slipped into the kiss, fell deep. Lips parted, tongues met, and all thoughts were stilled. The feel of Dean’s fingertips when they grazed her legs, the sway of their bodies as he pressed his body further against hers.

“Dean,” she said as she turned her head from his. Claire sighed when she felt his mouth on her neck. She struggled to clear the haze that formed whenever she was this close to Dean. As much as she wanted to fall into the swing of things, she couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong. "Hey, talk to me."

Dean sighed against Claire’s neck before raised his head to meet her gaze. Claire reached out to touch the side of Dean’s face only to jump slightly when he caught her wrist. She didn’t pull her hand away, though the look she fixed him with told him that move wasn’t quite appreciated. Message received, Dean brought their hands to their sides as he laced his fingers with hers instead. He dipped his forehead down to touch hers, eyes closed.

“I don’t wanna talk,” he simply told her.

“Something’s obviously wrong.”

“And I said I didn’t wanna talk,” Dean repeated. He released her hand and took several steps back. Fingers raked through his hair as he turned from Claire. “You’re a smart girl. What part of that doesn’t make sense?”

Claire’s eyes narrowed at the small snap in his voice. Her hands planted on her hips defensively as she took a step towards him. There were times in the past where she had exchanges with that tone. Moments in developmental where no one dared to try and take on the wild wrestler, then later in the days when the Shield ran without rules. Professional or personal, she didn’t care for it then and she sure as hell didn’t care for it now.

“Check that tone, Ambrose,” Claire warned him, “I’m just trying to help.”

“I didn’t ask for help,” Dean shot back. He turned on his boot to face her, hands mirroring hers as they shot to his hips. “I’m not lookin’ to get Dr. Phil’d here, Red. I’m not interested in any words of wisdom. I came to get off. That’s the whole point of us, isn’t it? To get fucked and have fun. That’s what I want right now. So is this happening or not?”

“You can stay here -- alone -- and get yourself off,” she told him, frankly. Her voice lacked it’s usual lightness, though a hint of heat lingered faintly in the words. “Feel free to find me when you’re done being an asshole.” Claire brushed a hand over the end of her skirt, straightening it. She barely sent him another glance as she turned to leave. “How’s that for words of wisdom?”

Dean knew the second he said the words that they were the wrong ones. He readied himself for outrage, steeled himself for yelling. What he wasn’t prepared for was the hurt and disappointment on her face. A part of him was thankful for the dim lighting. If he could feel the shame in that moment, heavy and deep in his gut, then he had no clue what he would have felt if he could see her clear as day.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Dean quickly moved to stop her. His hand was outstretched, yet barely touched her shoulder before she held her hand up to stop him. He took a step back when she turned to face him, knew better than to crowd her after what he had said. “Claire...”

“Choose the next words wisely, Dean,” she advised, “Because I wasn’t a fan your last few.”

“It’s this thing with the Wyatts,” he tried to explain, “And Jimmy. I got him into this mess and I pissed Roman off. He said some shit and now... “ Claire watched as Dean shrugged. He kept his eyes down as he blew out a breath, unable to hold her gaze. “Now I feel like shit.”  

Claire watched as Dean shifted from foot to foot, waited until he met her gaze once more.

“It’s understandable that you’re upset,” she told him, “Especially after what happened. I get it, Dean. I really do.” Her voice still lacked her usual tone, which was the reason that kept Dean from stepping closer to her. The decision had been the right one. “What I don’t get--” Claire stopped herself, decided to put her thoughts into different words. “You said the point of us is to… hook up and have fun. You’re right. That was decided when we started up together.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Dean quickly said.

“You did,” she honestly replied, “And that’s okay. I want fun too, but it’s pretty clear that neither of us are having fun right now. So I’m going back to work and you’re going to talk to Roman. Fix what you need to fix with him, make peace with what you need settled within yourself.”

“And after?” Dean asked, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

“I’ll be around.”

The feeling of detachment hung between them as Claire turned back around and left. It continued to linger when she was gone. Dean brought his hand to his face, rubbed at it in frustration. He wanted nothing more than to erase this whole mess of a night, but it was useless to wish for something like that. There was a mess, mostly caused by him, and he had to salvage what he could.

If he could.

* * *

 

It wasn’t until he was back at the hotel that Dean went to smooth things over with Roman. He found his friend as he finished up a phone call outside the hotel bistro. By the sound of Roman’s voice, Dean could only assume he was talking to his kid. He traveled with Roman enough to know how he operated. A call before shows, before and after flights, at the end of the night... It was the schedule of a man who had someone that cared about him and someone he cared about in return. Dean didn’t know the feeling of rushing home to spend holidays with the family. No birthday calls to loved ones, no calls ‘just because’. He couldn’t remember any time he felt anything close to that. He hadn’t for a long time. Dean didn't know that life. At best, he got the occasional call from Sneaky Pete and Fat Tony, but those calls often involved a few acts that may or may not be legal. It was a completely different life than the one Roman led. Those differences never really mattered before.

Dean waited until Roman slipped his phone into the pocket of his jeans before he made his way up to him. Hands stuck in the pockets of his leather jacket, he watched as Roman looked up and spotted him. His friend’s expression didn’t hold the same frustration it had earlier in the night, but there was a certain level of hesitation for a moment. The moment passed though and soon after Roman sent Dean a small nod, smile growing slowly on his lips.

“Beer?” Dean asked, motioned towards the bistro.

“You buyin’?”

“I’m buying.”

Unable to resist a free one, Roman’s smile grew. The two men made their way to the bistro, decided to take a seat at the bar instead of a table. Roman motioned for a couple beers as they slid onto the stools.

“About earlier with Jimmy,” Dean said, “I’m sorry, man. For coming up with the idea and--”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Roman shook his head, “If I really had a problem with Jimmy fighting with us, I would have put a stop to it. I didn’t. We knew the risks. Even me. What I said was way outta line too.”

“You weren’t wrong though,” Dean stopped him. He paused slightly as the bartender came with their beers. Roman nudged one of the bottles in Dean’s direction. “Bray came after me last year and it was just me. All the games, all the words… they were aimed at just me and I was cool with that. I could handle that, because I’ve been on my own for a long ass time.” Dean thumbed the label of the bottle, tore at the edge of it slightly. “You got family though. They matter.”

“They do,” Roman agreed, “But so do you.” He shifted on the stool, turned to face Dean. “My blood is your blood, remember? So you and me? We’re going to show the Wyatts why they made a big mistake messing with us.”

“Fuck yeah we are.”

Nodding, Dean raised his bottle up. Roman returned the gesture, tapped his bottle to Dean’s. The two men took a sip from their drinks, the proverbial hatchet buried as they did. It didn’t matter where they were in their careers. Teaming up or going solo, Dean was family. He might not have the kind of life Roman had or share the same DNA, but that didn’t make him anything less than his brother. The two men chatted, watched the TV that hung above the bar, and enjoyed their drinks. It was a small break before the inevitable war continued.

“Another round?” Roman asked, later in the night.

Dean considered it for a moment, but his mind ultimately was drawn elsewhere.

“I think I’m gonna turn in,” Dean told him as he slid off the stool, “Gym tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Roman replied, still in his seat, “Got a few hours before my flight. Might as well get the work in. You got that convention this weekend, right?”

“Yup,” Dean said, “Gotta get that schedule worked out with Red though.”

“Without me there to play buffer between you and Claire?” Roman laughed, “Good luck with that.”

Dean smiled a bit at that. Roman did make an effort to play peacekeeper between him and Claire, but he definitely didn’t know everything when it came to them. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Tossing a few bills onto the bar to square away the bill, Dean gave Roman’s shoulder a light pat before the two men bumped fists. Heading out, Dean shoved his wallet into his back pocket. He straightened his leather jacket slightly before he ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to make it look somewhat presentable. Yeah, he’d turn in eventually, but he had one more stop before the night was through. One last issue he needed to settle.

* * *

 

Claire closed out her night as she packed away the last of her personal belongings in her suitcase. Hair tied up and face freshly scrubbed, she had dressed down from her work clothes, slipped into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and made sure her alarm was set for the appropriate time in the morning. Going through the next day’s schedule as she moved around the room was a nightly routine for her. The next day would mean moving along to the next town, then the next state. She was in the middle of pulling back the bed sheets when the knock on her door came. This late in the night? There could only be one person. After her exchange with Dean earlier in the night, Claire knew that the second round would happen sooner or later. The knock came again as Claire crossed the room towards the door. As expected, it was Dean standing on the other side. She didn’t waste times with chit chat and chose to step back and let him into the room instead.

“I, uh…” Dean scratched the back of his head as he decided on what he’d say first. He watched as Claire moved to sit down at the end of her bed. Because she made no motion for him to join her, Dean opted to lean against the table across the room. “I worked things out with Roman. We had a few beers, talked. We’re good.”

“That’s great,” Claire said as tucked her legs under her. The urge to smile came and was fought back when she saw Dean’s eyes dip down to stare at her legs. She waited until his gaze moved back to hers. The smile broke through on her face when a grin appeared on his, completely unapologetic about where his attention went for a moment. “Roman had a rough night,” she continued, “And so did you. You guys working it out is for the best.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, “And I figured I might as well smooth over with you while I’m at it.” He shifted in his spot, crossed his arms over his chest as he spoke. “With what I said earlier, what I demanded from you… I was so fucking outta line and you were right to drag my ass for it. You and me have a pretty sweet deal going on, you know?”

“Something easy,” Claire said, “Just fun.” She nodded faintly at the words, soft smile on her lips. “There’s a certain level of convenience that comes with that, you know? The lack of commitment, knowing we’re having sex together because we’re always in the same towns a lot and it’s easier than finding someone new every night.” She brought a bare foot onto the mattress, laid an arm over her knee. Claire dipped her chin down to rest on her arm as she looked across the room at him. “I like it.”

“I like it too.” Dean dropped his arms to his sides, pressed his palms to the desk behind him, “Doesn’t hurt that the sex is good too.” He felt his body ease slightly at the sight of Claire laughing. The mood lightened a bit. “It’s not complicated.”

“I don’t mind complicated,” Claire confessed, “While I believe the majority of relationships should be fairly simple, it would be foolish to think there wouldn’t be difficult moments.” She shifted on the bed, scooted forward to hang her legs over the edge of the bed. “I like being with you, Dean. Regular sex with someone fun, not having to deal with anything but that… it’s great. However, I’ve only ever really had a few relationships in my life. They were all serious. Exclusive. The kind you and I _aren’t_ in. So I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little over my head when it comes to what we’re doing.” Claire pushed herself onto her feet before she took a couple steps closer to Dean. “It’s supposed to be easy and so far it has been. We jumped in, said it is what it is. The only real stipulation we had talked about was that we kept it between us. We never needed to put up any sort of guideline other than that.”

“You wanna add more?” Dean asked when he noticed Claire hesitate a bit.

“No,” Claire quickly shook her head, “We start adding rules and it’ll take out all the fun, right? We have enough rules as it is working where we do. You would know. I spent the last few years trying to get you to follow them.” She took a deep breath before she continued. “However, we wouldn’t be completely smoothed over until I say that I never want to be or made to feel like an easy lay to be had whenever you and you alone are in the mood.”

Dean nodded. What he had said in the maintenance room had not been one of his brighter moments. He hung his head slightly at the words, knew the shame that came with being the person that made her feel that way.

“I’m all for easy and convenient,” Claire honestly said, “But a girl’s gotta have her standards. When I’m with someone, it’s a two-way street and it’s equal footing. It doesn’t matter what kind of relationship I’m in. Serious, casual, whatever. There has to be a level of trust there and trust is hard when you feel less than what you are.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, “About all of it.”

“I know you are,” Claire said, “I wouldn’t have let you come inside tonight if I thought you weren’t.”

Head raised, Dean looked at Claire. Despite the conversation topic, she still smiled. It was small, but still carried every bit of care and openness her usual smiles carried. Dean nodded again, took in her words. Knowing that she had believed he was genuine, that she trusted him enough to still talk to him after the shit he pulled, was a strange feeling. He wasn’t quite sure he’d ever get used to that one.

“I’m a bad son of a bitch,” Dean confessed, “And I’m even worse with women. I’ve treated poorly, neglected, and lied to almost every woman I’ve ever been with. I’d make a shit boyfriend, Red.”

“I don’t recall ever asking you to be one,” Claire told him, “I knew what I was getting into when we first hooked up, Dean. I know the kind of guy you are. It’s never been a secret the kind of relationships you have. Just like you know the kind of girl I am. We know where we stand. I’m not asking for the moon, Dean. I’m not even asking you for some big commitment. Only to be respected.”

For a moment, the two didn’t speak. Everything felt a little deeper than they originally intended it to be, but Dean knew it needed to happen if they wanted to keep their arrangement going. It was Dean who broke the moment. Stepping forward, he closed the distance between them. He reached out a hand slightly and brushed the back of his fingers against Claire’s arm, ran them down until her fingers curved around his.

“Trust and respect,” Dean finally said, “I can handle that.”

“Thank you.” Claire tilted her head back slightly as she looked up at him. She used her free hand to brush at the front of his leather jacket, held onto the lapel lightly. “Are you staying tonight?”

“Depends on you,” he replied, “It’s been a long night.”

“We should probably turn in,” Claire said.

“Yeah...”

Despite what had been said, neither moved from where they stood. The corners of Dean’s lips curved into a small smirk as he felt Claire tug at his jacket lightly. They both had the same idea. Dean leaned down, Claire moved up, and their lips met with a rush of excitement. Her hands worked quickly to strip Dean from his jacket. Relieved that the worst had passed, the two moved towards the bed, stumbled over each other before they crashed onto the mattress. Dean managed to kick off his boots before he moved further up on the bed, his lips still on Claire’s. Giggling against his kiss, Claire draped her arms around Dean’s neck.

“What’s funny?” he asked between kisses.

“Nothing,” Claire insisted. Dean fixed her with an unconvinced look. “I just… I remembered we still need to talk about your schedule for the next couple days. You have Wizard World panel, signing, and photo op. I never got the chance to ask you about it at the arena and I think it would be better if we went over that tonight.”

“Seriously?” Dean asked.

“Hell no,” Claire quickly replied, “I’m off the clock.” Her grin grew as she leaned in, brushed her lips over Dean’s. “We’ll talk about it at the appropriate morning hours though, right?”

“Promise,” Dean agreed.

Claire laughed as Dean tugged at the blankets beneath them, tossed it over them. He smiled as she softly brushed her hand through his hair, pushed the wild strands from his eyes. Reaching out, Dean lightly touched her chin before he dipped down to kiss her lips again. They’d focus on the work when they needed to, but in that moment it was just them. No work, no responsibilities, just fun. That was all they needed.

At least for now.


	3. That Was Then...

September 20, 2015: Houston, TX.

Claire slowly woke to the sound of her alarm. The happy jingle played throughout the room as she slipped out of bed to retrieve it. She stepped over the discarded clothes, the haphazardly packed suitcase, and the thrown about shoes as quietly as she could. It was like walking through a disaster area whenever she was in Dean’s room. Then again, she often kept her room immaculate, which hardly made the comparison fair. She didn’t have to carry as much as the talent did. Her phone fished out of her purse and the alarm was turned off quickly, Claire checked the time. It was early in the morning. A little too early, but the WWE had a pay-per-view later that day and Claire knew the event would be a big one.

At the sound of a sleepy groan, Claire looked over her shoulder in time to watch Dean shift and stretch along the bed. His slept on his stomach, his head buried beneath a pillow. The blanket was slung dangerously low on his hips, which Claire certainly didn’t complain about. She moved back to the bed and set her phone down on the nightstand beside it. Claire crawled back into the sheets and moved to his side. Her eyes were drawn to the large scar along his back and right arm. Hand raised, she lightly brushed her fingers along the old wound. The injury had come about during a particularly violent match before Dean came to the WWE. She had heard stories of deathmatches over the years. Tales of barbed wire and hand saws that sliced through skin. Having only watched the current product, Claire couldn’t imagine watching a match like that, much less participating in one.

Dean grunted at the feeling of her hand along his back, shifted on the bed until he laid at his side. Claire smiled as she pushed the pillow from his face. His light brown hair was a serious case of bed head and struck out in every direction. Claire knew she couldn’t judge though, knowing her own hair would be just as untidy. Sleepy eyes opened slightly as he looked up at Claire. There was no good morning, no witty banter. Instead, Dean wrapped an arm around Claire’s waist and pulled her close. Her body followed his as he rolled onto his back. Claire pressed her hands against his shoulders and pushed until she sat up, her knees planted at both sides of his hips.

One arm tucked behind his head, Dean looked up at her, a lazy smile on his lips. His eyes moved over her. From her messy ponytail down to the oversized muscle tee, which had the familiar DA trademark on the front. His shirt, which she most likely threw on at random when she reached for something to put on in the middle of the night. His free hand ran along her leg, drew patterns against the soft skin there. Yeah, there was no beating a sight like this in the morning.

“I probably should go soon,” she finally spoke, “We have a few hours to get ready before we need to get to the arena.” And just like that, Claire shattered the moment with work talk. Dean groaned, reached out for the pillow once more. He would have succeeded in throwing it over his face if Claire hadn’t pried it from his hand with a laugh. “Just stating the obvious. No need to go back to sleep, you big baby.”

“You’re so mean to me,” Dean teasingly grumbled, “I’ve been nothing but nice to you since the moment we’ve met.”

“That is a bald-faced lie, Dean Ambrose,” Claire laughed, “And you know it.”

“You calling me a liar?”

“Absolutely,” she told him, “You were a jerk to me on several occasions.”

“I don’t think you remember those moments right,” Dean refused to concede, despite the fact that he knew he was a cocky son of a bitch the past few years.

Dean fisted the fabric of Claire’s shirt with his hands and pulled her closer to him. Claire felt how much Dean wanted her right then and there. Quite literally, considering she was pressed up against him. His palms slid beneath the shirt and caressed her back as she leaned in to kiss him. The kiss was playful and definitely not long enough for Dean’s taste. Claire pulled back quickly, much to his protest. Her forearms came to rest against Dean’s chest as she got comfortable.

“I have a suggestion,” Claire slowly said, “I stay for a little longer… if you can prove me wrong by showing me now nice you can be.”

Dimples winked as Dean smiled up at her.

“Deal.”

* * *

September 15, 2013: Detroit, MI. Night of Champions.

_Soaked with sweat, Dean swaggered backstage. He’d stay close to the entrance, knew that his brothers were out there for their own title matches. The Shield would crush tonight, as they did since the moment they debuted. He moved towards the nearest monitor, spotted the familiar flash of red hair as he did. He had seen enough of her in developmental, but Claire Peltier was a rare sight on main roster shows._

_“You better take a good look at what a real champion looks like,” he cockily said, “‘Cause you won’t see nobody like me down in Florida.”_

_Claire sighed as Dean sauntered up to her, took his place beside her as they watched the tag match unfold. She had spent her time between Florida and shows on the main roster. It was a change. She was mostly used to developmental shows. However, with bigger shows and PPVs, the company would call on a few extra hands and there was no one more dependable than Claire. So she would catch a flight out, help set up the ring and prepare locker rooms. It was good work that she enjoyed. At least until Dean Ambrose appeared, that is. The men of Shield had spent weeks appearing on NXT, sharing their special brand of justice with both the main roster and those in developmental. She had spent the past few weeks checking on talent after they were taken out by the Shield or breaking up fights the three men started backstage. The Shield dominated. She wouldn’t deny that. She could respect that on some level. However, there was no ignoring the fact that the Shield were some of the biggest jerks around. Not that anyone working backstage would say it aloud._

_“NXT has plenty of champions,” she politely replied, “They’re all talented in their own rights. Even those without titles are talented.” The answer must not have been good enough for the United States champ as Claire saw Dean shrug off her words with a shake of his head. She sucked in a breath in frustration when Dean reached over and plucked her water bottle from her hand.  “Humble too,” Claire added. Her usual professionalism slipped slightly for a moment, irked by the sheer level of boldness._

_“Humble don’t win gold, sweetheart,” Dean grinned as he patted the title on his shoulder, “Maybe once you’ll realize that once you move up from that hole in Florida and travel with the big boys full-time.”_

_“Those I work with are nice,” Claire told him, “I like them and I’m fine where I am.”_

_“For now,” Dean told her, “You’ll get bored setting up rings or filling buckets of bottled water in catering.” Just because he could, Dean waved the bottle he stole from her in front of her face and laughed when she rolled her eyes. “‘Fine’ gets stale real quick, Red. Especially for an overachiever like you.” He leaned in, met Claire’s eye level. “When you get tired of those nice, humble developmental guys, feel free to come around the big show.” Dean smirked as he gave Claire a quick once-over. “I’ll be happy to change that ‘fine’ into something a whole lot better.”_

_“I have a boyfriend,” Claire said, “Even if I didn’t I probably wouldn’t take you up on your offer.” The faint sound of a bell broke through and Claire turned to the monitor, saw that Roman and Seth won their match. “You should probably go celebrate with your friends,” she told him, “Have yourself a nice night.” Claire took a beat, motioned to the bottle in his hand. “Enjoy my drink, your win tonight, and your title… However long that lasts, of course.” She had a small moment of pleasure when she was able to see Dean’s smug wipe away. Claire plastered the sweetest smile she could muster as she turned to leave.  “I meant the drink,” she added, “Not your title reign.”_

_She heard the huff of frustration, then the stomp of boots as Dean headed out in the opposite direction. Claire knew she shouldn’t speak to the talent like that, but guys like Dean Ambrose deserved a kick to the ego sometimes. She shook her head as she turned the corner and brought her attention back to work. After that night, Claire would be back in Florida and working backstage at NXT. She’d try and enjoy when she got called in for help, but she couldn’t imagine traveling full-time. Not with guys like the Shield roaming around. Even if she did travel with the main roster, there was no way she could ever picture herself working with those types of talents. The last thing anyone needed was to be associated with the men of Shield._

_They were nothing but trouble at the end of the day._

* * *

September 20, 2015: Houston, TX. Night of Champions PPV.

There were several places in the arena that were deserted. Sections were taped off where the crew were able to stack crates, places where bins for lighting and electrical were placed. Dean often hung out in the secluded areas. He sought out the silence sometimes, as opposed to the locker rooms. The Shield often spent their nights in area like these, in places where no one else would think to travel to. Even after Seth’s betrayal, Roman and Dean would often spend their down time sitting beneath large, metal racks. They’d shoot the shit as the show went on, avoid the backstage politics and general bullshit that came with the business. However, Dean used those areas for something completely different these days.

Claire smiled up at him as she leaned against one of the crates. Her hand lightly played with the zipper of Dean’s leather jacket as he bent forward to place his palms against the crate behind her. He was excited for his match with Roman against the Wyatt family that night, knew they made a good call for their third member. Dean knew he would find Roman when it was time, but he wanted a little moment before then. Dean brushed his lips against Claire’s neck, grinned against her skin as she moved to wrap her arms around his waist. They had gotten past the small setback a couple weeks back and managed to get back into the swing of things, but that didn’t mean Claire was free to skip off in the middle of work for long periods of time. Dean sure loved to try and convince her to do so though. She would be a liar if she said he didn’t succeed more than half the time.

“I have to go,” Claire told him, “You have to go too.” Dean shook his head in protest, buried his face into her neck as he did. She couldn’t make out the words he said, but he had requested a few more minutes enough times that she knew he would say it again. Hands slid to his chest before Claire nudged him back. His hands moved to cup her cheeks as Claire stood on her tiptoes to drop a small kiss to his lips. “If you don’t show, then Roman will come looking for you. If he comes looking for you, then---”

“He’ll find me on my knees and this skirt of yours bunched up on your hips,” Dean continued for her. He grinned as he saw Claire’s cheeks turn red. It was pretty fucking adorable. There was something about throwing Claire off her guard that was fun. The proverbial tugging of her pigtails. Dean licked his lips as he dropped a hand down to her hip, dragged his fingertips along the curve of her ass. “That can always be later,” he added, voice hungry as he spoke, “I can come down to your room after the show. Help you wind down...”

“You’re killin’ me, Smalls.”

“Ain’t nothing small about me, baby.”

When Dean debuted in the company, he unnerved her. When the Shield emerged, he annoyed her.  It wasn’t until after the Shield that he began to endear himself to her, but now? Claire bit her bottom lip as she raised her head to look up at Dean. His blue eyes shone with excitement, but it was the growing haze of lust that caught her eye. Now she knew she was in trouble. It was the best kind of trouble though. Claire knew that more than anything. It was the kind of trouble that made her heart rate pick up speed. As intense as he could be at times, there was no denying that Dean had a wildness in him that pulled her in. There was a freedom there, a ‘give no shit’ attitude, that appealed to Claire over time.

Dean shook his head when Claire began to pull away, tugged her into his kiss one last time. He couldn’t get enough. It was a little embarrassing how quickly he had come to need her touch. He craved the feel of her lips, the taste of her tongue when the kiss deepened. The feeling of her quickening breaths, the heat when his hands roamed along her body possessively. There was a line Dean learned to tread when it came with women. One that urged him to scratch the itch, curb the need, and then move on. He wasn’t sure where that line was when it came to Claire anymore. It was dangerous territory, he knew that.

What was even more terrifying than that?

For Dean, it was not even knowing when she began to have that effect on him.

* * *

 

September 21, 2014: Nashville, TN. Night of Champions PPV.

_“You can tell that son of a bitch Seth Rollins that his ass is mine! There ain’t no place on this damn Earth he can run to where I won’t find him!”_

_Dean was carried kicking and screaming through the backstage area. Sure, he crashed the show and beat Seth Rollins up and down the arena, but what part of that wasn’t okay? The golden boy had that one coming to him. Regardless of whether it was justified or not, security was in the Authority’s pocket. It had been a while since someone cuffed and hauled him out of a building. He couldn’t exactly say he missed the sensation. At least this time around the cuffs were zip ties instead of cold steel. He thrashed against those carrying him with such determination that he almost didn’t notice the security team drop his feet to the ground and release him. His mind was on autopilot and instincts urged him to turn around and seek out Seth again. Dean turned to do just that, but found security rally together at the sight of his second wind._

_“Hold on,” a voice broke through, “This man works for the company.” Claire, as tiny as she was compared to those around her, wedged between Dean and the security team. She looked at the situation, nudged Dean slightly to glance at the hands that were tied behind his back. “These cuffs aren’t necessary. Yes, he went a little too far tonight---”_

_“Too far my a---” Dean began to say._

_“He’s within his rights to be here,” Claire spoke over his voice before he could finish that last word, “Cut him loose. He won’t cause any trouble and he has a taxi waiting for him.” She motioned towards the zip ties. “It’ll be in everyone’s best interest if we just consider this whole thing square and go back to the show.”_

_She wanted him to cooperate, diffuse the situation. Dean knew that was her endgame. One security guard moved, came around to cut him free from the tie. The snap of freedom came and Dean considered charging through the group and finishing what he started. However, Claire looked up at him, eyebrow raised as if she knew the idea flew through his mind. Dean looked from her to the small security team, motioned for them to scurry off. He watched as Claire flashed the group a smile, thanked them as they dispersed. When they were left alone, he heard her let out a small huff of breath, as if she couldn’t believe that worked. He watched as she turned her full attention to him, hands planted on her hips._

_“Was it worth it?” she asked him._

_“Absolutely,” Dean grinned. Wearing cuffs for a minute after whooping Seth’s ass? That was a no-brainer. He caught the small curve in her lips at his reply. “You thought it was worth it too.”_

_“I said no such thing,” Claire told him._

_“C’mon,” Dean laughed, “I didn’t see his face when I rolled up, but it had to be worth it.” Dean watched as Claire shook her head, the smile growing as she did. Yeah, she totally thought so, even if she was too much of a professional to play favorites. “Admit it.”_

_“He was certainly surprised,” Claire conceded, “That’s all I’m going to say on the subject.” Dean followed as Claire led him back towards the parking area. As she said, the taxi from earlier was there, as was the driver he skipped pay on. “I took care of your ride here,” she added, “But you’re on your own heading out.” Motioning towards the driver in the front seat, Claire gave Dean a playful warning. “Remember to pay the man this time, okay?”_

_“Gotta pay you back too,” Dean replied, “For paying for the ride and stuff.” Claire watched as he opened the door to the backseat. He leaned against the door slightly as he turned to look at her. “We can grab a burger or something after the show, if you want.”_

_The offer had clearly thrown Claire off. They had never really been overtly friendly at work. Mostly because they never really considered each other friendly in general. In fact, Dean had been far too comfortable being a thorn in her side than a friend over the years. She was more than happy only interacting with him and the other Shield members when necessary. Dean watched as she took a moment to respond._

_“That’s really nice of you,” Claire finally said, “But it’s not necessary.”_

_“You got something against food in general or just burgers?” Dean teased._

_“Burgers are great,” she replied, “But I don’t think it’ll be a good idea to grab a bite with you… or any other talent really.” At the faint look of confusion, Claire explained further. “I have a boyfriend or, well...” She raised her left hand slightly, motioned to the small ring that was on her finger. “Fiancé.” The awkward beat was not lost on the both of them. “It’s not that he would get jealous,” she tried to explain, “He’s weirdly trusting like that, but I---”_

_“No, it’s cool,” Dean chuckled as he stopped her, “I get it.” He watched as Claire visibly relaxed. “Congrats on that whole deal, by the way.” Dean motioned slightly towards the ring. “I must’ve been out longer than I thought. I didn’t hear about it.”_

_“We’re not really going around and telling everyone,” Claire said, “It was pretty recent.” She smiled at Dean, somewhat embarrassed. “I’m not even completely used to it yet.”_

_“I’m sure you’ll get used to it,” Dean told her. He really had no idea if she would. Rings and commitment weren’t his thing. “I caught his match a couple weeks back. He’s good.”_

_“He is. He’s really good.”_

_Dean watched as Claire’s face softened at the words, her smile aimed downward as she looked at her ring. There was a level of pride in her voice when she spoke. It was different than the tone she used when she talked to others backstage. Any guy would be lucky to be spoken about like that. Dean wasn’t that kind of guy though. He moved to slip into the cab and rolled down the window to speak to her after he did._

_“Thanks for paying off my cab,” he finally said._

_“Think of it as a welcome back,” Claire smiled, “Try not to cause any trouble, okay?”_

_“I can’t promise that,” Dean grinned._

_“Well, trouble or not,” Claire laughed, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”_

_Dean watched as Claire turned, made her way off to continue the show. He studied her for a moment until she disappeared around the corner. It was strange. Those past few minutes might have been the longest he and Claire interacted without an issue between them._

_He couldn’t really say he hated it either._

* * *

September 20, 2015: Houston, TX. Night of Champions PPV.

The main event was well underway and most backstage had crowded around monitors to watch Seth go toe-to-toe with Sting. That made it easy enough for Claire to slip into Roman and Dean’s locker room undetected. She resisted the urge to pick up after the two men as she stepped around the suitcases and discarded towels. Dean turned at the sound of her entrance, a towel slung over his shoulder. He was freshly showered and had just slipped into a new pair of jeans. Claire looked cautiously towards the shower and restroom, but Dean shook his head.

“Roman’s out,” Dean told her, “He had a call, needed some privacy.”

“How’re you two doing?” Claire asked. She slowed to a stop next to Dean, her attention on his suitcase.  “After the match and what happened with Jericho…”

“It is what it is,” Dean replied. He watched as Claire poked around his luggage, smiled when she plucked a black t-shirt from the stack. Not like there were many options in there. He pretty much wore the same shirt and jeans combo every day. Claire tugged the towel off of his shoulder and replaced it with his shirt. “We still got Wyatt problems. I guess it’s back to the drawing board.”

“Well,” Claire said, “I think you did great tonight.”

“We lost,” Dean pointed out.

“And tomorrow’s another day,” she replied, “I think you and Roman are due for a little luck too.”

Dean knew that kind of optimism was lost on him, but it seemed as though she had enough for the both of them and Roman. It was the kind of optimism that snuck up on him, threw him off guard. Shirt forgotten, he reached out to wrap an arm around Claire’s waist. He hauled her against him and enjoyed the way her arms automatically moved to drape over his shoulders. Dean leaned down slightly, touched his forehead to hers. The embrace was something Claire seemed so comfortable with, but one that Dean rarely encountered. It was an act of intimacy without sex. Eyes closed, he let himself enjoy the moment.

“Oh shit.”

For however long it lasted, of course.

Claire and Dean broke away at the sound of another’s voice.

Phone in hand, Roman stood by the locker room door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we finally have someone find out! Of course it had to be Roman. It would be wrong if it was anyone but Roman finding out first. LOL! Also a first: flashbacks! I wanted to play with time in this chapter. It helped a lot that there were moments I could write from past NIGHT OF CHAMPIONS with Dean. I also wanted to show how different Dean was in the past (his Shield self, how he was outside of the Shield) and also how Dean and Claire's relationship was then compared to now. I hope you guys like it, because there might be more in later chapters. Maybe even how Claire reacted to Dean's wild self in FCW? Or how Dean and Claire got together? Anyway, I wanted to say thanks to all those leaving kudos or comments (here and on FF.net). They make me smile and encourage me to finish chapters. You guys are awesome and I can't wait to go on this adventure with you!


	4. This Is Now

October 5, 2015: Boston, MA. Raw.

Two weeks.

That’s how much time passed since the moment Roman found out. It was also the number of weeks Dean and Roman had gone without talking about it. Dean knew he was fucked the moment he walked out of catering and found Claire had waited for him. Papers in hand and with a click, click, click of her heels, the redhead casually made her way up to him. With anyone else, Claire’s approach wouldn’t have been noticed. It was just another day in the office for anyone else. There was an impatience in her eyes that night though, which often went unnoticed due to the ever-present polite expression on her face. Dean knew better.

“Please tell me you talked to him,” Claire said, voice low.

She fell into step with him, kept a safe enough distance. The same way she would walk with anyone else backstage. It would be as if she were going over week plans with him and not because she was inquiring about their personal business. Claire sent a quick look in Dean’s direction, noted the shiftiness in his eyes. She didn’t need to see more to know her answer.

“Two weeks,” she told him, “Over two weeks. If we really want to get specific, I can go by the exact number of days.”

“It’s just been business as usual,” Dean replied, “Things with Bray got real heated so he still hasn’t brought it up.”

“Then you need to bring it up,” Claire said, “Roman is your best friend. You guys work with each other and I have to work with all of you.” She looked around as they headed towards his locker room, made sure no one else was within earshot. “He walked in on something. While I have every confidence that Roman is not the type of man to gossip about friends and colleagues, I need a little peace of mind.” The two slowed to a stop outside of Dean’s locker room. Claire hugged the small stack of papers she held to her chest as she looked up at Dean. “Be a hero, Dean Ambrose. Make my night, put my mind at ease, and talk to your friend.”

“I can think of a few other things that could make your night.”

The smile that appeared on Claire’s face due to Dean’s words couldn’t be hidden even if she tried. It was becoming a bit of a problem. She found it harder and harder to keep her composure when he did or said things like that.

“Settle things tonight and I just might try a few of those things.”

Dean grinned as Claire slid past him and made her way off to continue her work. He didn’t need the extra encouragement to get things done. However, he sure as fuck wouldn’t turn it down. Things with Claire had been going well. They didn’t go out for food after shows. Both knew it wasn’t smart to go out and eat together. Not after they got spotted by Roman. They shared a couple beers and burgers after hours, but always in the safety of the hotel room. Neither seemed to mind it. Hell, some of the best nights he had recently were the nights he spent in with Claire.

The grin remained on Dean’s face as he pushed the door to the locker room open and stepped inside. Roman was already settled in the locker room. They had finished their six-man tag that night with Randy against the Wyatt family. The day they wouldn’t have to battle those bearded bitches from the backwoods would be a good day, but Dean had no problem throwing punches until then.

“We gonna talk about what happened yet?” Dean asked.

“With the Wyatts?” Roman replied back, his attention focused on packing his suitcase..

“With Claire.” Dean settled into a seat. “Unless the not talking is some form of cruel and unusual punishment, then I’d say I’ve had worse.”

“I’m not trying to torture you,” Roman told him. He had a mix of confusion and amusement on his face as he turned his gaze to Dean. “It just looked like a personal thing. I know how awkward you get whenever you walk in on me and my girl. I wanted to give you some space, man. I didn’t wanna interrogate you about your new relationship.”

“We’re not in a relationship,” Dean was quick to correct. Roman watched his friend’s back straighten. It was almost like watching a cat arch its back when it prepared to strike. “It’s not like that, man. We’re just having---”

“Fun?” Roman finished for him. He wasn’t convinced. Not in the least. Roman shook his head, thought back to that night. The way they were in each other’s arms, the sight of their bodies so close… There had to be more. “That can’t just be shits and giggles, man.” He tugged off his vest as he sent a look of challenge in Dean’s direction. “You forget that I’ve seen you with the women you usually have fun with. Claire ain’t that type.”

No, Dean thought, she wasn’t.

“But we’ll go with ‘fun’,” Dean heard Roman add, “At least until you’re ready to call it what it is.”

* * *

With her duties completed for the night, Claire found herself sitting outside of medical as the night drew to a close. The fans had filtered out of the arena slowly, the crew went to work tearing down the ring and lights. Her friend Grace would be finishing her last session of the night. The talent had asked for a massage therapist on the road and had gotten more than they bargained for in Grace Roarke. With several academic accomplishments under her belt, the young therapist’s time with the WWE seemed more like a vacation instead of a year-round occupation… or at least as much of a vacation someone like Grace could muster.

“Your friend is a butcher,” Dolph Ziggler announced as he stepped out of the office. Despite his words, Claire saw he sported a small smile. “You know this,” he added, a look of playful accusation on his face as he pointed at Claire, “Yet you still allow her to brutalize my body.”

“He’s whining,” Grace’s deadpanned voice came through from inside the office, “Whining is different than begging, which is what he did ten minutes ago when he came in for his session. He begged for me to get rid of the pain. I suspect it was in jest, but it was begging nonetheless. I was kind enough to oblige. Remind him of that, Claire.”

“You heard the woman, Dolph,” Claire grinned at Dolph as she rose to her feet and motioned towards the office, “I bet you didn’t even thank her.”

“Oh, believe me when I say I tried.” Dolph threw his hands up slightly, washed his hands of the situation. “I’ve been trying for years to thank her properly. She’ll have none of me.”

“Gross,” Claire said.

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Dolph shot back with a laugh. Claire teasingly scrunched her face as she shoved him in the direction of the locker rooms. “Remind Grace that she has my undying love,” he told Claire, though his voice was loud enough to reach the open office door, “And that she can Snapchat me whenever she wants. Especially late at night.”

Claire bit back her laugh as Dolph made his way off. She shook her head as she walked into the office. Grace had begun to close up shop and Claire watched as her friend moved around the space.

“Ziggler jokes too much,” Grace noted. She set the last of her things in her bag before she zipped it closed. “Half the time he sounds like he means it, which makes it difficult to laugh at the appropriate times.” Claire watched her friend’s eyebrows furrow in frustration as she spoke, clearly unhappy with the words she said. “I’ve resorted to not laughing at all.”

“Not laughing would probably do the trick,” Claire said. She watched as Grace moved to collapse the massage table. “But it would probably make Dolph think you don’t like interacting with him.”

“I don’t like interacting with people in general,” Grace admitted.

“But you work with people’s bodies for a living.”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

Claire smiled at her friend’s blunt reply. Though they had grown close the past few years, the two women were nothing like each other. While Claire moved with a certain level of finesse and confidence, Grace's shuffled steps were often in hesitation. Where Claire would break pattern when she chose to, Grace was more of a creature of habit. Though hesitant at times, every step and movement Grace took was for a purpose. Nothing was left open for change. Claire had stepped into her profession when she least thought she would. Grace had mastered her occupation, along with several others, over several years and from a very young age. The success she achieved in her field was far more than her rather limited experience with people. It was okay though. Claire had enough experience for the both of them and she took it upon herself to ease her friend into the social game.

"You need to get out more," Claire advised.

"I get out," Grace replied, "It's the human interaction you need me to improve on."

"I don't need it," Claire said, though her voice trailed off slightly towards the end.

"However..."

"Don't you ever crave a little human interaction?" Claire watched her friend's gaze fell slightly as Grace considered the words. "Being with someone. Maybe not just in the physical way, but also the casual way. Not just laughing at the appropriate times when someone is speaking to you."

"Sometimes," Grace confessed, "On very rare occasions."

"We can work on that," Claire happily said, "Or at least we can try to, if our schedules allow."

"I make no promises."

"That's the spirit."

* * *

Dean and Roman dragged their luggage behind them as they made their way out of the arena and towards talent parking. The two men spotted Claire attempt to lift a large massage table case into the trunk of her rental. Roman watched as Dean picked up his pace and made his way over to her. Dean moved to lift up the case and slide it into the trunk without any issue. A smile was on Claire’s face as Dean bent down to pick up her bag and place it in the truck as well. The sight from a distance simply looked like someone helping another. Roman knew that wasn't the case though. Claire and Dean were good at keeping up appearances, but Roman could see the little changes now. Everything he didn't notice months back. The way Claire’s smile spread just a little wider at the sight of Dean. The way Dean stood just a little closer, leaned in a little bit more when he spoke to her. Roman shook his head. He couldn’t believe he didn’t notice it before. Then again, he wasn’t even sure if Dean knew he did that.

Roman slowed his step as he finally drew closer to the pair, caught Claire’s last words as she thanked Dean for his help. He nodded in passing to Claire as Dean grabbed his luggage, received a smile back from her as the two men continued on towards their own rental. Dean glanced back in Claire’s direction as Roman popped the trunk of their car, smiled to himself when he turned forward and picked up his bag. It wasn’t until after he slid his luggage into the trunk and made his way around towards the front of the car that he noticed Roman’s smirk.

“What?” Dean asked as he fished the keys to the rental out of his pocket. He tossed it over the hood of the car and into Roman’s waiting hand.

“Nothing, man.”

Only it wasn’t nothing. Roman had the smirk on his face when they got into the car, still wore it when they pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to the hotel. Dean tried to brush it off, but he knew he couldn’t.

“Just spill it, dude,” Dean finally said, “Whatever joke or comment or whatever the fuck you gotta say. Just say it. I can take whatever you throw at me.”

“I’ve got nothing to throw,” Roman insisted, a small laugh in his voice, “It’s just…” Dean watched as Roman shook his head, allowed the laugh he tried to hold back slip through. “You’re so over your head with this one, man. You don’t even see it.” He spared a small glance in his friend’s direction. “Or maybe you see it and you just don’t want to admit it.”

“See what?” Dean asked.

“That there’s no way that you two are just in it for fun,” Roman replied, “You have no idea what you looked like that night, man. I saw how you were with her when y’all thought you were alone. Just like I see how you were with her just then. You can try and deny it or try to tell me I read it wrong, but I can see it.”

Dean drew in a deep breath and sat with Roman’s words for a moment. His friend had seen him with several women in the past. All of them were what he would describe as women he just had fun with. Roman was right. Claire wasn’t that type. She was nothing like the women he interacted with in the past. His brother may have been blind to Dean and Claire the past few months, but he knew now and he knew enough that he could see a change. Was Dean really so different when it came to Claire? Sure, they had sex with each other. He had sex with several women over the years. Dean did have to admit that he rarely, if ever, spent the night with those women. Hell, he usually didn’t even let the other women into his hotel room. As disgusting as it sounded, Dean was the type to get in, get off, and get out.

He never stuck around for morning.

At least until Claire.

Fuck.

“Everyone knew about her last relationship,” Dean told his friend.

“So?” Roman asked.

“So no one needs to know how much she downgraded on her rebound.”

Dean spoke the words with such certainty that Roman had to glance in Dean’s direction for a quick moment as he drove. Boot planted on the dashboard, Dean sat slumped in the passenger’s seat, arms crossed over his chest. Roman knew his friend had it rough growing up. He also knew that Dean often acted like he had tougher skin than most. Not much got to Dean Ambrose. At least not much when it came to what they do in the ring. That clearly wasn’t the case outside of the ring. No, his friend was not invincible. He was just damn good at acting like he was and Roman had gone long enough not noticing it.

“You shouldn’t talk like that, man,” Roman told him.

“It’s the truth,” Dean replied. He leaned his head back against the headrest of the seat, closed his eyes for a moment. When Claire was still with her ex, everyone backstage had known about it. They didn’t flaunt it, but the both of them had been liked enough backstage that people had invested in their relationship a bit. It was the same when their engagement was called off. It was the nature of the beast. Nothing was off-limits backstage. At least nothing that was made public. “No one else is going to know about me and Claire. It doesn’t matter what we are or aren’t.”

“But it’s obvious you guys like each other,” Roman tried to reason with him, “At least enough to keep doing what you’re doing. You’ve been with her for, what? A few weeks now? Months? You can have more. All you gotta do is let yourself have it. You know it’s not just hooking up with her.”

“Maybe not,” Dean conceded, “Maybe it’s different.” Maybe it was a lot of things he wasn’t sure he could admit out loud. Dean shook his head, dropped his boot down to the floor of the car as he straightened in his seat. “She wasn’t looking for anything more and I wasn’t interested in giving her anything more. That’s what we agreed on when this whole thing started. So it is what it is, okay?” He blew out a breath in frustration. Part of Dean wished he still smoked. It would have curbed the growing irritation inside of him. “There’s no point in fucking up a good thing by trying to be more.”

“Not even if there’s a chance you end up with something better?”

* * *

Roman’s words stuck with Dean all through the car ride back to the hotel and long after they had parted ways for their own rooms. They stayed with him when he showered and changed and continued to play in his head as he made his way down to Claire’s room. Dean knocked on the door, leaned against the wall nearby as he waited. He didn’t know why the words had planted so deep in his mind, but there they were. Roman thought it was possible for Dean to have someone like Claire in his life. Not just the way Dean usually went about with women. Something he never quite allowed himself to have. Something like what Roman had in his life. Something completely different from what he had known and saw through the years. Something real. Dean slipped inside without a word when Claire answered his knock, kicked the door shut with the back of his boot. A small look of confusion spread across her face as Dean wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

“So…” Dean spoke as he walked Claire backwards towards the hotel room bed. “I’ve been thinking about all the ways I can make your night now that I finally talked to Roman.” His hand teased the hem of her t-shirt as his fingertips brushed along the skin beneath it. “The leading idea involves a few fireworks --- to be obtained through illegal channels, but the less you know, the better --- and maybe half the items on the room service dessert menu.”

“I have a six pack and a large pizza,” Claire offered.

“That’d work too.”

“It’s on the desk.”

Claire laughed softly as Dean abandoned her and headed straight for the desk. She turned her attention to her suitcase with a shake of her head. She worked to finish the last of her packing as Dean flipped open the pizza box. He groaned in pleasure at the sight of it. Dean’s faint ‘fuck yeah’ filled the room before he bit into the pizza slice. He turned and leaned against the desk as he watched Claire set the last of her items away. He reached to pick up a slice for her as she closed and put aside her suitcase, held it out for her to take when she made her way over to him. Claire took the slice, moved onto her tiptoes to press a small kiss to his cheek in thanks. He watched her pick up the nearby six pack and make her way towards the bed. Doing the same with the pizza box, Dean settled on top of the sheets with Claire. Their dinner set between them and their backs pressed against the headboard, Claire picked up the TV remote and turned it on. Dean raised his arm slightly when Claire shifted closer to him and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she watched the late night talk show on the screen. Her fairly small hands held up her pizza as she took bites from it, the back of her head rest lightly against his shoulder.

A growing warmth spread through Dean when he looked down slightly to watch Claire. They weren’t doing anything but eat junk and watch TV. It was something he could see himself do every night with Claire, which should freak him the fuck out. Everything about this moment just felt so goddamn right to him though. Maybe Dean had been lying to himself when it came to this thing with Claire. What it was and how he felt. It’s not just a hook up. Not anymore. Not when nights are spent like this. So yeah… maybe Roman was right.

All he needed to do was let himself have it.

“What?” a soft voice broke through his thoughts. Dean noticed Claire had turned her gaze up from the TV to him. He had been staring like an idiot. Claire didn’t pay much mind to that though. She self-consciously brushed the back of her hand along her cheek and jaw. “Did I pizza my face or something?” Instead of answering her, Dean leaned down to capture her lips with his own. The kiss was sweet, yet short, and caught Claire by surprise. “What was that for?”

His answer was simple enough.

“Just because.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry for the lateness. I've got a long explanation, but the nutshell of it all is that I'm currently in the middle of a big move. I'm packing up the house all by myself and moving with my mom about seven hours and 300+ miles away from where I am now. To say I'm a little busy is an understatement. I'm sticking with this story though so don't think I've forgotten about it! You'll see new characters (oh hey Grace) and a few wrestlers (Ziggler? Seth? Maybe even Corporate Kane?!) pop up. You will also find out if these two crazy kids can make it work. Despite Dean feeling a little low compared to Claire's last relationship, things ended on a bit of a high for Dean and Claire in this chapter. Wouldn't it be a shame if something... or someone... came in and disrupted that? I guess we'll just have to wait and see. 
> 
> The road to Hell (in a Cell) is paved with good intentions. ;)


	5. Take a Chance on Me

October 25, 2015: Los Angeles, CA. Hell in a Cell.

“I don’t care anymore.”

Claire looked up from her work, met Dean’s eyes from across the small hallway backstage. Dean was dressed in his usual jeans and boots, his black hoodie worn beneath his leather jacket. Though she saw her fill of the man almost every night for months, he still had a way about him that often brought a blush to her cheeks and quite a few unprofessional thoughts to her mind. 

"Don't care about what?" Claire asked as she began to turn her attention to the paperwork once more.

"About if anyone knows about us."

His words drew Claire's attention once more. He noticed her eyes widen slightly in surprise and the small part in her lips as she drew in a breath. She wasn't expecting that one. He watched as she quickly collected herself, busied her hands with the papers as she did. Dean took his time as he stepped across the hall, leaned down to press his palms against the surface of the table she worked on.

“Dean,” Claire took a beat, tried to find her words. “What you’re saying… It’s kind of a big step, isn’t it?”

“Only if we make it one,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulder, “Nothing will change, Claire. We’ll still do what we’ve been doing. The only thing different will be that we’ll, you know, be able to go out for food.” Dean grinned when Claire rolled her eyes at the words. He shifted his hand forward on the table surface, brushed his fingertips lightly against hers for a moment. “Everything with us has been about the here and now. We never worried about shit like ‘big steps’ and stuff before. Why start now?”

Claire and Dean had grown into a different situation than when they started. Neither had searched for anything more than the primal. However they had grown to enjoy each other’s company over time. Not just between the sheets, but out of it as well. What surprised Claire the most was not the fact that she had allowed herself to get to such a comfortable place, but rather the fact that she had gotten there with the company’s own Lunatic Fringe, who was the quite possibly everyone’s least likely candidate for a relationship.

Then again, Dean Ambrose always was full of surprises.

* * *

 

June 8, 2015: New Orleans, LA.

_The nightlife in New Orleans was completely different than most in the country. Jazz played throughout the brightly lit sidewalks as tourists and locals roamed the streets. Everyone was out and were looking for a good time. There would be no doubts they would all have it before the end of the night. It was a different kind of city. Claire enjoyed the fact that she was able to see it in full swing. It was rare on nights after show tapings. It was more likely that talent and personnel would go straight back to the hotel or on the road after shows. Not that night though, because Claire had agreed to go out for a drink in the city._

_The act of getting drinks was not something out of the ordinary for her, but the company was unexpected._

_And also late._

_It had been five months since she and her fiance had broken things off. Five months of Claire’s attempts at keeping her head down, of focusing solely on work. It was a mourning period, a goodbye after three years in a steady relationship. It didn’t help that relationships in the business often were talked about. She was never the antisocial type, but she certainly kept to herself during that time. It was time to rejoin the world, Claire thought. Even if it meant waiting an extra five minutes. What’s five minutes compared to five months?_

_“You ready, Red?”_

_Claire whirled around on her heel, watched as Dean elbowed past a passing crowd before he made his way over to her. He watched as she flashed a small smile at him before her eyes moved behind him slightly to seek out another. Dean looked over his shoulder slightly before he turned his attention back to the redhead._

_“I thought Roman was coming with you,” Claire confessed when she saw his quizzical look. The whole reasons she was out that night was because the two men had talked about going out and celebrating Roman’s win earlier in the night. It was more than a little strange that he wasn’t in attendance._

_“He had a thing,” Dean said easily, “That a problem?”_

_“No,” Claire shook her head, “Of course not.” Dean sent her a look. It was one that clearly wasn’t convinced. Her polite smile cracked into one of embarrassment. “I just haven’t done this in a while. Going out and getting drinks with people. I thought going in a group would make it easier.”_

_“You don’t need a group to have fun,” Dean told her. Claire fell into step beside Dean as he moved towards one of the bars nearby. “And it doesn’t matter how long it’s been since you’ve hung out. Just let loose, take some shots. It’s like riding a bike.”_

_Claire watched as Dean stopped outside of a local bar, motioned for her to step inside. She glanced at the bar, at the loud music inside, and the bright lights that tempted those that passed by to come in. Just let loose. She could do that, especially when she has someone like Dean Ambrose as company._

_And what better place to do that than the Big Easy?_

* * *

_“There’s absolutely no way I’m getting on that thing.”_

_Claire watched from the bar as the latest victim of the mechanical bull pulled himself up from the padded floor. Many had crowded around the bull, took their turns to be thrown from it. She had done many things in her life, but getting tossed from a fake animal would not be one of them. Dean tapped the beer bottle she nursed in her hand before he motioned towards the bull with his own bottle._

_“Hey now,” Dean said in mock outrage, “I got on that earlier and I can tell you it is a fine form of entertainment!”_

_“I’m sure it is,” Claire conceded with a laugh, “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to hop on it anytime tonight.”_

_“You’re no fun,” he told her. Claire simply shrugged as she turned on the stool she sat on, faced the bar. Dean swiveled in his own seat to watch her. “But,” Dean added, “You’re out in a bar and not back at the hotel room. That’s something I thought I’d never see from a workaholic like you.”_

_“I have toured around towns before, you know,” Claire pointed out, “Tonight isn’t some great story to print on headlines.”_

_“No, but it is a long time coming,” Dean said._

_“A long time coming?” Claire repeated._

_“You, me, and a few beers…” Dean took a beat to drink from his bottle. “You’ve gotten drinks with almost everyone but me at this point. Not gonna lie. Feelings were hurt, egos bruised… It wasn’t a pretty sight.”_

_“Drinks with almost everyone?” Claire laughed, “No, I haven’t!”_

_“I’ve seen you with Cesaro’s coffee cups before shows,” Dean said._

_“Getting coffee for people backstage is hardly the same as getting drinks at a bar,” she told him._

_“So I’m the exception then?” he grinned, “You can admit it. I promise it won’t go to my head.”_

_Dean took pleasure in the sight of Claire’s reddening cheeks. Shaking her head, Claire tipped her bottle back and drank down the beer. She would admit to nothing, no matter how refreshing it was to be out and about. Instead, she placed the empty bottle on the bar and moved to pluck Dean’s bottle from his hand. A bit of justice, she believed, since he had done such an act to her countless time backstage at work._

_“You’re not that special,” she told him as she slipped off the stool beneath her._

_Claire didn’t quite want to admit what was happening, but there was no mistaking the teasing tone that had been in her voice just moments before. She moved off to admire the oddities that hung on the bar walls, smiled to herself as she heard Dean shuffle behind her in pursuit. Taking her time, Claire sipped from the drink in her hand and looked at the photos that hung on the wall. Celebrities that visited, individuals who had scored high on the mechanical bull, bands that had played… All who came to the city and enjoyed themselves. Though Claire doubted her face would be on that wall, she knew that she too would enjoy the night._

_“Every town has a bar,” she heard Dean say as he moved to stand behind her, “And every bar worth its salt has at least one photo on the wall.”_

_“It adds character,” Claire replied. She held the beer bottle up slightly, smiled over her shoulder at Dean when he reached to take it. “Each frame is like a little section in a story. Everyone gets to contribute to the chapters.”_

_“Want your picture up?” Dean asked her._

_“Oh god no,” she laughed, “I’m a lot happier behind the cameras.”_

_Claire turned from the wall so she could face Dean. He stood with one hand shoved in his leather jacket and the other holding the beer bottle. She had never been around Dean in a social setting. It had always been in a professional one. Dean was as casual in the bar as he would be backstage before a match. That easiness came with not giving a damn about consequences. She certainly wasn’t damning consequences at that moment, but there was a level of freedom Claire felt. An easiness, a small reprieve from the time she had spent in her own bubble._

_“Thank you,” Claire said, “For inviting me out tonight.”_

_“Even without Roman?” Dean asked._

_“I’m sure we would’ve all had a great time,” she admitted, “But yes, even without Roman. A couple beers at a bar was, weirdly enough, something I needed.”_

_“You had a rough go of it the past few months.” At the sight of Claire’s smile weakening, Dean shrugged. “Shit happens,” he added as kindly as he could, “Adds to chapters, right?”_

_“It does.” A soft laugh spilled from Claire’s lips as she nodded at Dean’s words. She smiled as Dean offered the bottle to her, shook her head slightly. “Tonight does too. A nice little chapter about consuming beers with the Lunatic Fringe, in a jazz-filled bar, in a beautiful city.”_

_“Pretty fucking cool chapter to me,” Dean noted, He polished off the drink, set it on a table nearby. “I wouldn’t mind adding a few more of them in some other time.”_

_“You know,” Claire confessed, “You’re not nearly as unpleasant as I thought you’d be, Ambrose.”_

_“I know,” he simply said. Hands shoved in his pockets, Dean took a step forward as he moved closer to Claire. There was no hiding the grin on his face as he spoke. “You smell better than I thought you would.”_

_His words were all tease. Though Claire narrowed her eyes at him, the expression gave way to the smile that formed on her lips._

_“You’re such a jerk.”_

_Claire laughed as she began to move past him, but froze as she saw Dean reach out to stop her. His hand was soft as he touched her hip. Claire puffed out the small breath she held, her eyes locked on Dean’s as he shifted to stand in front of her. Dean curled his fingers, molded them to follow the curve of her hip._

_“You with anyone right now?” Dean asked, voice low as he leaned down slightly, “Your ex? A co-worker? Your local mailman?”_

_“No.”_

_“You feeling what I’m feeling right now?”_

_The tips of Dean’s wild hair lightly brushed against Claire’s forehead as he moved closer. The hand on her hip slid around to rest against the small of her back. There was no spark as the contact deepened, but it was impossible to ignore what Claire did feel. The sizzle, the heat that grew and filled the space around them._

_“Maybe,” she breathed out, “We should probably do something about that.”_

_“Definitely.”_

_Claire’s lips curved into a slow smile as Dean leaned in, took her lips with his. There was no soft smooch, no slow build. It was a burst of need that gripped them both. Claire was unable to do anything but let the feeling guide her. Dean brought his hand up to rake through her bright hair, tangled them in the long locks. Lips parted as Dean deepened the kiss. Claire moved onto her toes as she slid her arms beneath Dean’s leather jacket, let them settle against his sides. Maybe it was the moment, the city, the company she kept... It didn’t quite matter in Claire’s mind in that instant. Dean didn’t step back when they broke contact. There was a smile on his lips when he noticed Claire had done the same. Her eyes were somewhat glazed over. Dean knew the haze of lust when he saw it. When it cleared, Claire turned her gaze upward towards Dean, a smile of her own on her lips. Claire felt his fingers slide through her hair, laughed softly when he gave the tips a light tug. It was a small gesture, but a rather unexpected one coming from Dean._

_“Wanna get outta here?” Dean asked._

_His voice was low. All temptation when he spoke. She absolutely knew what he was implying with his words. It was no secret that Dean found a good time wherever he went and often. As far as sexual partners were concerned, Dean Ambrose was an apt candidate. It was a given that he was attractive and she knew he was in peak physical shape, which could only enhance the experience. Those facts wouldn’t have mattered in the end if Claire didn’t feel comfortable with Dean or if she didn’t view him in a positive light. Sure, he wasn’t someone she wanted to associate with a few years ago. He had been borderline certifiable when he came into developmental. Unhinged and a little too intense for her taste. After that… Well, he was a Shield brother and everyone knew how volatile those boys were back then. Not to mention how arrogant. If that Dean Ambrose had asked her that question, Claire certainly would have declined. He wasn’t that man anymore though. Yes, he remained unhinged, but the edge that had been so off-putting before had grown on Claire. His obnoxious arrogance back then had changed to become a charming sort of confidence over time. Maybe it had been the time that passed through the years or the experiences he had --- in the ring and out of it --- that changed him._

_Then again, there was always the possibility that he was still the same man he always was and that it was Claire that changed. Or at the very least it was her perspective that had shifted. She was no longer the woman she had been when she worked in NXT or even further back in FCW. Back then, Claire had been a woman out of her depth and in a business that would have swept her under the current if she hadn’t grown. So she grew and not only survived in the business, but she thrived. She didn’t view things or explore options the way she had before. Perhaps that change had made her see Dean in a different light. Did it matter whether it was he or her in that moment? Not really. At least not in Claire’s mind._

_The only real question was if this something she wanted to explore._

_“Yes.”_

* * *

October 25, 2015: Los Angeles, CA. Hell in a Cell.

“No.”

Claire turned down the last hall, shook her head when she found it deserted. The show had just come to a close. How was it that four large, imposing men could carry a legend out of the ring and suddenly disappear? She had no idea how it happened, but it happened. The Wyatt family had vanished with The Undertaker and had thrown everyone backstage into a frenzy when it happened. No one ever knew what the Wyatt family was doing at any given moment, but this? This was something different completely.

“No,” Claire repeated into her walkie talkie, “There’s no sign of them here. They’re gone.”

She turned off her radio. They would call it a night and send everyone off, because they knew there wasn’t much of anything the backstage personnel could do in that moment. Hell, even if they did find them, there wasn’t much anyone would have been able to do. Claire turned to leave and bit back the yelp that threatened to come when she found herself face to… well, chest… with Kane. It was not the happy-go-lucky Director of Operations Kane that stood before her. No, that man was gone. He had been fired earlier in the night from Seth Rollins. The man who stood before her was not even categorized as a man to most in the company, but a monster.

“We don’t know where he is,” Claire was quick to say, “We’ll find him.”

“You won’t,” Kane all but growled, “But I will.”

Her breath was held as the Devil’s Favorite Demon met her gaze with a heated glare, found herself shaking slightly when he left. The five words from him were so simple, but the growing rage in his voice could throw off even the strongest of souls. If there was anyone who could find The Undertaker and be fearless in the face of the Wyatt family, it would be Kane. Claire tried to compose herself as she quickly moved out of the hallway. She jumped at every loud bang that echoed as the backstage crew tore down the backstage area. She had to get to her work station, pack up her things. The quicker she was, the better in her mind. It had absolutely nothing to do with the interaction she just had moments before. Nothing at all.

“Hey,” a voice said from behind her and caused her to jump.

Whirling around, Claire tried to slow her pulse when she saw Dean. He looked at her with a look of concern as he stepped closer to her. She shook her head before he could get a word out. Instead of explaining, Claire simply moved into his arms. She closed her eyes as she pressed her cheek to his chest, felt herself ease when he wrapped his arms around her. It was foolish. Claire wasn’t hurt and she didn’t even receive the worst of verbal exchanges, but she had gotten a bit of a scare. That much she would admit.

“Did something happen?” Dean asked her. He felt the last of her shivers die out as he rubbed her back. Claire shook her head as she took a step back. He didn’t believe that for a second. “Red…”

“Just a small exchange with Kane,” Claire replied. She saw the flash in Dean’s eyes, knew that he would work himself up into a frenzy in time. Shaking her head, Claire reached down to take Dean’s hands in hers. “It was nothing,” she insisted, “I promise. I just forgot that Kane wasn’t always sunshine and coffee mugs.”

“Yeah and he’s got some shit to deal with now with the damn Wyatt family,” Dean said.

That was some crazy shit. Not that they were lacking in crazy around this business. Dean knew more than anyone how fucked up Bray Wyatt and those other freaks could get. There had been months last year when all Dean wanted to do was end that backwater cult leader. That was before Bray came for Roman and Dean found himself up to his ass in Wyatt bullshit. If anyone ever tried to do take his family the way the Wyatts did to Kane tonight…

Dean mentally shook off the thoughts and forced himself to push the past back where it belonged. He looked down at his and Claire’s hands.

“I guess the cat’s outta the bag, huh?” Dean asked. A small smile was on his lips as he gave Claire’s hands a small squeeze. “Maybe I should send Kane a fruit basket or a can of gasoline… Whatever he’s into these days.”

“You’re going to send that demon a fruit basket?” Claire looked up at Dean with skeptical eyes. “After scaring me?”

“Sent you right into my arms,” Dean shrugged, “Kinda seems like the least I should do.”

“You’re such a jerk.”

The words were said, all tease, as Claire smiled at Dean, who reached out to place his hand lightly on her hip.

“Roman’s got a win to celebrate tonight,” Dean told her, “You should come with.”

“You know,” Claire noted, “I remember getting that same offer from you not too long ago.”

“I promise Roman will show this time, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

At Dean’s words, Claire shook her head and allowed herself to laugh for the first time in that moment. She ran her hand up his arm and dragged her fingers through his damp hair. Despite what Dean had said earlier in the night, things would be different if they brought their relationship public. There would be no going back after this and she knew it. Then again, Claire couldn’t imagine herself wanting to go back after taking that step.

“I’m not worried about anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So I've moved, settled into my new place, found a job, & started said job since the last time I updated. It was hard work & I missed a lot of things while it was happening (#1 contender Roman?! Dean/KO fighting?! Seth out with an injury?!). Now that this chapter is up & I’m getting my schedules all worked out, I’ll try and catch the story up to the current TV timeline. I have an outline of where I want this story to go in the next couple of months, but all the shake ups that came since I’ve last written sort of threw those plans all off. I’m going to make it work though & I hope you enjoy where the story goes. Speaking of the story, we finally have a date for when Dean & Claire started things! I always wanted it to be the date RAW was in New Orleans. I liked the idea of Dean taking her out in that city. That was a nice moment for them. To go with that flashback, I paired it with another nice moment. Our lovebirds are ready to go public & are getting on the right track! Well… at least for now. You know how it is in the WWE. One day you’re at the top, but there’s always a risk of waking up the next & finding yourself on the bottom. Let’s hope Dean & Claire don’t wake up to that anytime soon. ;)


	6. Invitation Only, Grand Farewells

June 8, 2015: New Orleans, LA. 

_Dirty boys from the Nasty Nati should not look at things they can’t have._

_That was something Dean Ambrose knew all too well growing up. There were just certain things people like him knew they couldn’t obtain. From the expensive shoes kids would wear to school, the brand new music player, the popular toy that month to the job that was beyond reach, the groceries that couldn’t be paid for...  To go through the torture of wanting and the disappointment of never having was a fucking bitch growing up. Especially when someone grew up with shit and got through the days by the skin of one’s teeth. It was never easy. While wanting was a whole other issue, Dean never needed much. He had simply learned to live without luxuries. That was fine for him._

_Dirty boys from the Nasty Nati should not touch what they know that can’t keep._

_As the years flew by, Dean had a bit more trouble when it came to that. Sure, some things were not made to last, but that didn’t stop Dean from reaching out at every opportunity. Most things fell forgotten by the wayside, others were met with rejection and regret. It was the rare few instances where Dean had gotten the breaks he needed. The kind of moments that were so good that they outweighed the shit._

_Those lucky breaks often followed the one, fairly simple exception to the previous two lessons: Dirty boys from the Nasty Nati should know neither of those rules apply if you don’t give a goddamn fuck._

_That was exactly the case when it came to Claire Peltier. Pretty girls from golden states shouldn’t associate themselves with dirty boys. Dean knew well enough that there was a giant ‘DO NOT FUCK’ sign that had flashed all over Claire. It had been there since the moment they met. It continued to flash even after they had kissed. He was certain the sign would explode and sirens would go off left and right if they headed where he thought they were going, but damn if he wasn’t going to enjoy it all the meantime._

_Dean felt Claire’s hushed laughter against his shoulder as he pressed her back against the hotel room door. He grinned against the top of her head as the lock clicked into place. Palms pressed against the door, Dean leaned back as he looked down at Claire. There was a flash of excitement in the redhead’s eyes as her hands reached out to grasp the lapels of Dean’s leather jacket. She aimed a warm smile up at him as she drew his body back towards hers. Dean was more than willing to oblige, but found only air as Claire ducked under his arm and skirted around him. She had only made it a few steps before Dean whirled around and wrapped his arm around her waist._

_“Second thoughts?” Dean’s deep voice asked as he pressed Claire’s back against the front of his body._

_“No second thoughts,” she told him. Claire turned in his arms as her hands reached out to take hold of Dean’s. “No thoughts at all.” Dean followed as Claire walked further into the hotel room. “If I think, then I’ll come up with a reason not to do this,” she continued, “I know there are a lot of reasons why this is a bad idea too, but right now I think I’m just going to go with it.”_

_Claire released Dean’s hands when she neared the bed. Her eyes stayed on his as she slowly sat on the mattress. The smile on Dean’s lips was absolutely criminal as he shrugged out of his leather jacket. He reached into his back pocket, tossed the condom he retrieved onto the bedside table. Claire smiled as he moved to cover her body with his own. Time wasn't an issue, but the way they moved felt as though there was one. There was a faint feeling of urgency as they reached for each other, freed one another of the clothes they wore. Hands touched, teased, and had their fill as they roamed over every inch._

_There had been other women. Several women. Faceless women. Women who simply filled lonely nights along the road. Dean didn't know if Claire would be added to that long list or not. The mere fact that he worked with her made it seem impossible. They had to work together. Claire was a constant. Backstage at events, on the road… She was essential to those in the business and had been for years. They had to interact and talk on a weekly, practically daily, basis. They didn't speak now though. They didn't need to. What they wanted in that moment was the physical. The touch of two bodies as they came together, raised pleasure with each movement. It was the sound of gasps and moans that filled the room. Lips that brushed over lips, pressed against shoulders. It was a thirst finally being quenched, a feeling of relief as the need was met, as they brought each other tumbling over the edge._

_Dean might catch hell in the morning for what he was doing with Claire that night, but goddamn he was going to enjoy the here and now._

_He was pretty fucking sure she was going to enjoy it too._

December 13, 2015: Boston, MA. 

“Don’t go.”

Claire felt Dean’s arm snake around her waist before he pulled her back towards the bed. The Tables, Ladders, and Chairs event had come and gone. Though some things stayed the same, the changes for others were more than surprising. Dean pulled Claire onto his lap with a deep laugh as she sent him a look of warning. She was being pulled away for work, whisked off on some flight, but that didn’t stop him from trying his damnest to keep her.

“It’s a six hour flight,” Claire told him, “Not to mention having to arrive an hour before for check-in. Minimum. I can’t be late.”

“You can be a little late,” Dean tried to reason, though he knew there wasn’t much he could do, “Doesn’t the new champ have any sway in this situation?”

A smile came to both their lips at the words. Claire shifted on Dean’s lap, reached over to pick up the Intercontinental title from its place atop Dean’s luggage nearby. She had seen the shock and pure excitement on his face when he had won the championship. Even when they had returned to their hotel room after the show, Claire had saw Dean stare at the title in his hands. There was a look of pride on his face as she placed it over his shoulder.

“The new champion can have whatever he wants… after I get back from my trip.”

Dean sighed as Claire moved off of his lap, but he kept the smile on his face as she turned back towards him. She ran her fingers through his still-damp hair, a soft smile on her lips when her hand came to rest against the back of his head. His hand raised and laid against her hip as Claire leaned in to press a light kiss to his lips. The only reason Dean didn’t say anything slick back was because he knew Claire would make good on that promise. She made good on all her promises when it came to him. At least she had since they started to get serious... together… in an exclusive kind of way. Dean still wasn’t used to thinking about it like that, but nothing much had changed since it happened. Not in his mind anyway. They did everything they did before. The only difference was that they could do stuff in public, like eat and travel together. Hell, it wasn’t even half as painful as Dean thought that whole business would be. Claire made it feel so damn natural.

“You need a ride to the airport?” Dean asked as he watched Claire step away to pick up her jacket from the seat nearby.

“I can get a cab,” Claire replied. She sent Dean a smile over her shoulder as she slipped into her coat. “I know how annoying airports can be for you guys after events like tonight.”

It was a total pain. Dean knew it came with the job and he dealt with it when he needed to, but he hated to get hassled whenever he went out. Airports were one of those places people would flock to whenever the company was in town. If it was what Claire needed from him though, Dean would do it anyway. He’d do that and a helluva lot more for her. Though he didn’t say the words, it was the first thought that came into his head. It was a little unnerving how quickly, how easily, that idea came. Dean didn’t have much time to think on it though. Instead, he pushed himself onto his feet and made his way over to Claire. He took the title off his shoulder and carefully placed it on the small hotel table nearby.

“Lemme take your stuff downstairs for you,” Dean offered, “You know, get it in the cab and all that. Seems like a, y’know, boyfriend kind of thing, right?”

The small look of pleasure that slipped across Claire’s face made the offer worth it, but the way her body brush against his as she stepped closer to him made it a hundred times better. Claire wrapped her arms around his neck, moved onto the tips of her toes as she leaned up to kiss him. The kiss differed from the one before. While the previous one was soft and quick, this kiss lingered. It deepened, rose and fell with ease. A slow, growing display of affection that so few witnessed when it came to Dean.

“You can be real sweet when you want to be, Dean Ambrose,” Claire told him, breathlessly, when they parted.

“Stay a little longer and you can find out just how sweet,” he grinned.

His voice dripped with temptation and the smirk on his lips held an utterly sinful promise, but it was Dean’s eyes that drew Claire in. Those eyes held every confidence that he could back up whatever words he said. They also had every confidence that, if given enough time, he could sway Claire’s resolve. That alone was reason enough for Claire to take a calculated step back and out of reach, a knowing smile on her lips.

“Three days,” she said, “Then I’m all yours, champ.”

Dean nodded as Claire turned around to collect her purse. He kept the smile on his lips when he made his way down to the lobby with her, kissed her goodbye before she left in the taxi. This wasn’t the first time Claire flew in to help a tour or special show for NXT and it probably wouldn’t be the last. This time would be different though. He could feel the change in his gut.

A whole damn lot can happen in three days.

December 14, 2015: London, England. Heathrow Airport. 

Claire rolled her suitcase behind her as she made her way through the terminal. The flight had been nonstop and long, but there was something about being in another country that created a spark of excitement in her. NXT had something very special going for them and holding their first special overseas was a milestone when it came to the brand. Anyone who could say they worked those events -- in the ring and out of it -- had to be proud of that. It was certainly why Claire had taken the opportunity when she was asked to fly out for the last leg of the tour. One of the reasons anyway. The other reason… Well, she’d have to take that step when she comes to it.

It had been months since she had seen her ex. Even longer since she had spoken to him. Traveling with the main roster had been a blessing in disguise when they had broken off their engagement, but Claire knew that the chance that they would cross paths again would be inevitable. The thing about the inevitable was that it could be handled. It could come around, be maneuvered, on the terms of those involved. That made it more manageable.

“Claire.”

The other thing about the inevitable was how swiftly it could arrive and knock someone completely off course.

Slowing to a stop, Claire’s eyes were locked onto the sight in front of her. She stood frozen for a moment as the other passengers walked past. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. A nervousness that she hadn't counted on. There was a small smile that grew on her lips however, which was a result from the bright smile that was directed towards her. The warmth in that look, the comfort it instantly brought, had always been one of his biggest strengths. Claire released the breath she hadn't realized she held, settled into the familiarity.

“Sami.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck, haven't updated in months, and this chapter is a little short for my taste. However, I'm posting the next chapter back-to-back with this one and I have the third update already in the making! Sorry for leaving you all hanging! 
> 
> Oh. Also SAMI! ;)


	7. Love (Don't Come Easy at All)

December 16, 2015: Wembley, London, England. NXT Takeover.

_ There was a feeling of electricity in the air that night in London as everyone worked themselves into a frenzy over preparations for the night’s Takeover event. It was another mark in the history of NXT. Another place in time that people would think back and talk about. It was impossible not to get caught in the current and swept away in the excitement. However, the rising thrill was not the only emotion that pulsed through Claire as she made her way through the hallways backstage. Nervousness and caution also ran rampant inside of her… and it had everything to do with the man pacing the end of the long hall.  _

_ It was normal for Sami Zayn to lock himself away or find an isolated area before a match. She had seen it with several others backstage. Wrestlers who needed that moment alone to collect themselves, to psych themselves up and mentally prepare. Three matches were to be pre-taped for a future episode of NXT and one of them would be Sami’s return to television and the ring. Seven months of waiting and rehab would soon end. Though they had a couple days to acclimate to being around each other once more, Claire knew that there was a shift -- a change -- in the way she and Sami were around each other. She supposed it was only natural for former flames to have an uncomfortable period between them, but her relationship with Sami always had such a level of ease to it. They had never had to tiptoe around one another before. Knowing they currently were doing that now left something strange in the pit of her gut.  _

_ An unsettled, incomplete feeling.  _

_ Regardless of her current state, Claire made her way over to him.  _

_ “Fifteen more minutes,” Claire said, “Are you starting to feel back at home yet?” _

_ Sami took a deep breath as he turned his full attention towards Claire. Many had asked him similar questions that week since he had come back from his injury. They had asked if he was feeling 100% yet, if he was mentally prepared to be back. He still wasn’t sure if he meant any of the answers he had given. _

_ “Ask me after my match,” he chuckled, “I don’t think it’ll be real until then.” _

_ The smile they shared was a small one. Faint and somewhat filled with an uncomfortableness neither were used to… and they both knew it. Would it always be like this? Were they fated to share this level of discomfort at every given moment? Claire wasn’t entirely sure she could settle for that. It wasn’t the kind of person she was or wanted to be. She knew well that was the same when it came to the man who stood before her. A look slowly grew on Sami’s face. Knowing and amused, as if he had been thinking the same.  _

_ “You don’t have to say it,” Claire told him. _

_ “That this is awkward?” Sami replied, a small laugh in his voice. Claire visibly cringed at the words, which only caused him to laugh louder. “Hey…” Sami’s expression softened as Claire looked up at him. “It’s not like we ended things on a bad note. Things were good when we were friends and they were great when we were more than that. We’ve never been this weird around each other before. So why start now?” _

_ “You think we can just… breeze past it all?” Claire asked, “As easy as that?” _

_ “I’ve been thinking a lot during my time off,” Sami told her, “About the injury and the business as a whole. I had a lot of time to reflect on all of it… including you. I was so focused on trying to make something of myself back then. I was trying to play my part in building NXT into something great. I feel like because of that I let what we have become stagnant.” _

_ “It wasn’t all on you, Sami,” Claire insisted, “My time was split between NXT and travelling on the road with the main roster. Different schedules and timezones… It’s wasn’t easy then. Trying to keep things going when we only had, what? One day together? Two, if we’re lucky? We sat down, talked it out. Things ended amicably. It could’ve been worse for us. We could have ended up resenting each other.” _

_ “There are so many things I want to do,” he confessed, “There are goals I want to see through. I want to continue where I left off. I want to make NXT the best it could be. I want to move up and do the same thing on the main roster…” Sami took a step closer to Claire and lightly touched her elbow. It was instinctive the way her hand reached up to rest on his arm in return. “No matter how it ended and no matter how many months have passed,” Sami added, “You have to know that I could never resent you. Not when being with you, knowing you, was one of the happiest parts of my life.”  _

_ “Sami…” _

_ “I never stopped caring about you,” Sami told her, “Not when we broke things off, not during the months during my hiatus… and I hope it’s not too late to try again.” _

_ Claire prided herself on her ability to be prepared for every situation she could imagine, but this moment was not one of them. She felt frozen in place, unable to do anything but look up at Sami as he stepped closer to her. He shifted and took both her hands into his as he stared into her eyes. There was a hopeful look on his face, a warmth in his eyes. She had seen it so many times in the past. Each and every time had always brought a happiness to her. This moment however... _

_ “I know it’s a lot to dump on you and I’m so sorry,” he said, “It’s the worst timing ever. I just… I didn’t want to waste anymore time than I already did.” _

_ “You… have a match,” were the only words Claire could find. _

_ “Like I said, worst timing ever,” Sami sighed, a smile on his lips, “Take whatever time you need. However long it takes. I know it’s a lot to consider. Just… think about it, okay?” _

_ Claire watched as Sami began to head off. She took a moment to lean against the wall of the hallway, attempted to collect her thoughts. A shaky laugh escaped her as she went over his words in her mind. Worst timing ever? He truly had no idea.  _

January 24, 2016: Orlando, FL. Royal Rumble.

“I’m feeling good about tonight.” 

Despite the worried look on Claire’s face, Dean grinned. He had every intention of tearing into Kevin Owens and beating the holy hell out of him until he laid in a pile on the ground… and after that he was going to hop his ass to the ring and win the Rumble. At least that was the plan anyway. He lived for the destruction that he knew would go down that night. He could take the pain as much as he could hand it out. It was something Claire might not ever understand, but bless her damn light for sticking with it. The show would be in Florida that night, which meant everyone in the business -- from those on the main roster to NXT, to the higher ups in the company to Hall of Fame legends -- would be roaming around backstage. The Royal Rumble was the start of Wrestlemania season. To say that tonight was a big fucking deal would be an understatement. Dean had gotten word that his match would be the first in the docket and he would arrive earlier than usual because of that. 

“Feeling good about fighting until you can no longer stand.” Claire looked up at Dean with a small smile. Her fingers were laced with his as they walked down the hallway towards the locker room. “I sure know how to pick ‘em, huh?”

“Intercontinental champ, soon to be Royal Rumble winner…” Dean released Claire’s hand so he could drape it around her shoulders. She rolled her eyes at him when he sent her a cocky wink. “I’m a catch. You can admit it.” 

“You do have some catch-like qualities,” Claire teased as they slowed to a stop outside one of the locker rooms, “Most of them can’t be performed in a ring though.” 

There was a smug grin on Dean’s face as he dropped his things by one of the locker room doors. He didn’t spare even a glance around the hall before he backed Claire up against the nearest wall. Claire took a beat to make sure the area was clear before she turned her attention to Dean. She shook her head with a laugh as she dropped her forehead into Dean’s shoulder. Eyes fell closed as she felt Dean’s fingers rake through her hair. He touched her with a tenderness that was rarely seen by others. They had stolen moments when they could, but it was completely unprofessional to engage so openly in relations in the workplace. Dean had never worried much over how things looked to other people. While Claire absolutely did, it was hard not to get swayed by Dean’s particular brand of convincing. 

“You’re going to get me in trouble one of these days,” Claire warned him as she raised her head up to meet his gaze.

“Oh, I’m planning on it.”

Dean laughed as Claire lightly smacked him in the arm. The swat carried no real weight behind it. Just a simple reply to his teasing. A part of Dean had always enjoyed when he could mess with Claire. He had gotten under her skin enough times over the years. He definitely remembered propositioning her quite a few times. Of course those moments had been in an effort to antagonize her. He was a bit of a dick back then. At least in her eyes. Those same eyes carried a different view these days though. Any sort of annoyance or animosity from before had changed into something else. Something better. It wasn’t a peeved frown that followed whenever Dean spoke, but rather a smile or a playful roll of the eyes. There was an affection present in Dean’s life. In all honesty, he didn’t expect it to be with a woman like Claire. Someone so different from himself. Hell, he didn’t expect to have that presence at all. It was there now though and -- like his title -- Dean had no intention of losing it anytime soon.

“Have a good match tonight,” Claire told him. 

“I bet you say that to all the guys,” Dean replied, an arc in his brow. 

“Maybe so,” she laughed, “But only one gets kisses to go with them.”

Claire reached out to straighten the front of Dean’s leather jacket. Her fingers held onto the lapels as she raised herself onto the tips of her toes. Dean slid an arm around Claire’s waist, readied himself for the kiss. It didn’t come though. Not when they both heard the nearby locker room door open. Sighing, Dean dropped his arm from Claire as she took a step back. As much as it sucked getting interrupted, Dean knew it was to be expected that Claire wanted to maintain at least some small degree of professionalism while they were on the clock. What he didn’t expect was to see her ex step into the hall. 

Sami had taken a few steps out of the locker room before he stopped short at the sight of Dean and Claire. There was a brief beat of hesitation, but it was quickly followed by a warm smile. 

“Claire,” Sami smiled, “Hey.”

“Sami,” Claire replied in greeting. She took a moment to look from him to the locker room. “Are you wrestling tonight?”

“I’m hoping,” he replied with a small shrug, “All the guys from NXT sort of brought their gear. You never know when you’d get pulled for a match, right?”

Dean watched as Sami turned his attention in his direction. It was impossible for Dean not to size up the other man in that moment. His trademark hat on his head, Sami was dressed in a button up shirt and dress pants, which was a notably different look compared to Dean’s t-shirt and jeans. On the surface, the two men seemed worlds apart from each other. However, they both knew they did share a few things in common. 

“I’ve been keeping tabs on you and Kev,” Sami confessed, a smile on his lips, “I hope you leave a little bit of my old friend left behind so I can get a crack at him.” 

“Wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Dean replied, “See, I got this sort of burning hatred for the guy. Kind of all-consuming at this point. I plan of destroying that son of a bitch tonight.” 

“I know that feeling,” Sami nodded, before he added, “Good luck in the match, man. I look forward to watching it.” 

Sami took a step forward, extended his hand out towards Dean. It was a sign of respect. Maybe even of peace. Hell, it wasn’t like Dean was fighting Sami that night, right? Zayn was a good guy. Well liked, hell of a wrestler… There should be no reason Dean wouldn’t shake the man’s hand. The only reason would be the fact that he and Claire used to be a thing. A serious thing. The kind of thing that involved rings and shit. That reason wasn’t enough to hold grudges. Stepping forward, Dean took Sami’s hand, shook it.

“Thanks,” Dean replied when the two men dropped hands. 

He took the break to lean down and grab his suitcase. After he collected his things, Dean looked over at Claire. Her eyes were already on him, a smile on her lips. He could tell she was pleased with how the two men interacted. Claire turned towards Sami and reached out to give his forearm a light squeeze. Dean swallowed down the feeling of jealousy at the sight of their contact. He knew it was a simple and friendly act. That it didn’t mean more than that for Claire. However, Dean couldn’t help but take note of the way Sami’s expression lit up even more than it already had. 

“It was good to see you again,” she said to the NXT grappler. 

Sami simply smiled, nodded at the words. He didn’t need to repeat the sentiment. They both knew it was the same on his end. Claire dropped her hand from Sami’s arm and took a step back before her attention shifted to Dean. She reached out and placed the palm of her hand against Dean’s chest, brushed the pad of her thumb against the fabric beneath it. Dean felt a warmth spread out from the touch. He couldn’t help the small curve that came to his lips at the sensation.

“I’ll stop by before showtime,” Claire told him, “Give you the ten minute warning.” 

“Again,” Dean couldn’t help but smirk, “I bet you say that to all the guys.”

“Again,” she teased, “Only one gets kisses with them.”

Claire rolled her eyes as she leaned in to press a quick kiss to Dean’s lips. Her hand lightly patted his chest when she broke away from him and began to head off down the hall. Dean took a moment to watch her go before his gaze flickered over to the other man in the hall. The other wrestler was quick to avert his gaze, but Dean had caught it. The way Sami’s eyes followed the direction Claire left. Whether he knew he had been seen or not, Sami didn’t show. Instead, he murmured a small pardon before he made his way off in the other direction. Dean watched the other man shuffle out of view as a nagging feeling began to form in the pit of his gut. He knew that one night a conversation would have to go down between himself and the NXT wrestler. 

Tonight would not be that night though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN! I hope finally revealing Claire's ex would add a little fun to the story. If anything it'll add some much needed drama, right? Would Sami pursue Claire knowing she has a relationship going on? Does Dean have a little competition? Or is he looking a little too deep into things? Who knows! Or, well, I know, but I haven't revealed it yet. Don't lose hope, readers who enjoy Dean and Claire! Nothing can get in the way of this pairing... I think... I hope. Anyway I wanted to try something different for the next chapter. It'll take place completely away from the ring/from life on the road. Should be a fun one! 
> 
> I hope you all are enjoying the story so far. 
> 
> Until next time!


	8. Borrowed Time

February 10, 2016: Newport Beach, CA. 

Days off were rare and far between in the business. However short the days were, most liked being able to go home and see their loved ones. The days off were a time to unwind. People needed to rest their bodies from the bruises -- both mentally and physically -- earned while on the road. They’d get one, maybe two days off. That was if they were lucky. Dean didn’t like being lucky. Despite the presence of the Authority and their general douchebaggery, he didn’t like to miss days on the road unless he absolutely had to. Part of Dean liked living out of a suitcase and travelling from city to city. It felt important. It was important… at least to him. Dean sought out to be that guy in the company. The one that could pick up any match that was laid down and run with it. There was a level of pride that came with entertaining the WWE Universe, with the knowledge that his work was not in vain.

Claire had offered her place up, asked if he wanted to spend the off days there. It seemed like a good plan, especially considering they were scheduled to be in Anaheim by Monday anyway. A thirty minute drive to the venue definitely beat a four hour drive or an hour plane ride from Vegas. Despite wanting to be at Smackdown instead, Dean would make the best out of the time he was given. He could get some time in at a local gym, maybe even check out the beach. Hell, it didn’t hurt that he’d be sleeping on a nice bed with his girl either.

It had been four months since they became exclusive and nine months since they first hooked up, but this was the first time he’d ever spend the night at Claire’s place. They had a pretty sweet deal when they were on the road together. It was as close to living with a woman as he’d ever been. He and Claire would share a room and drive from town to town with Roman. In a way, it was sort of like when he roomed with Roman and Seth during their Shield days. The only difference was that he didn’t have to find some other room when he wanted to have sex with some chick he picked up, because already he shared the room with the one he was sexing. Also he didn’t have to pick her up, because she’s already with him. That was super awesome perk that came with being a boyfriend. Dean knew on some level that spending a few days in Claire’s house would be no different than when they traveled together, but there was something intimate in sharing her home. It was a new step forward for their relationship and for Dean in general.

He picked up his luggage from the sidewalk as the cab drove away and took a beat to look at his surroundings. He carried his things up the wooden steps and onto the porch, fished into his pocket for his phone. The house was beach side in a quiet and clean neighborhood. There was no boardwalk nearby, which he suspected kept the place fairly private for residents. It was a far cry from the area Dean was used to living in, but was exactly the kind of place he imagined Claire would settle.

“You got yourself a pretty porch,” Dean lightheartedly asked when Claire answered her phone, “I’d hate to dirty it up standing on it all day.”

A smile slid across his lips when he heard her laugh, listened over the phone as she made her way to the front door. She hung up the phone seconds before the door swung open. Dean slid his phone into his pocket as Claire took a step forward. She moved onto her tiptoes as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. There were some things he hated about not being on the road with the company, but moments like this one sure as hell weren’t one of them. The smile on her face was so bright, so welcoming, that Dean almost couldn’t believe it was all directed towards him. His hands reached out to grip her waist and drag her body to his. She ran her fingers along the ends of his hair as she leaned up to give him a quick kiss. Dean watched as Claire shimmied out of reach before she grabbed one of his bags. He took a moment to watch her as she turned on her heels before he picked up his other bag and strode into the house.

He took in the living room, the quilt spread across the arm of the couch, the plush and printed pillows that decorated the couch. His eyes roamed and moved towards the dining area nearby, the kitchen just off from there. There was a hall that lead to a couple rooms as well as a set of stairs that most probably led to the master bedroom. The space was spacious and well-furnished. Goddamn cozy was how Dean described it in his head. It was the kind of place that earned the title of home. It wasn’t just a roof and a place to sleep. It was the kind of place people lived in. Really lived, not just survive in. For the longest time, Dean didn’t believe places like this one existed. Sure he had the necessities, but even his apartment these days lacked the kind of touch this home had.

“What do you think?”

A smirk on his lips, Dean looked over his shoulder towards Claire. She stood by the staircase while his luggage placed neatly near the base of the stairs. Her red hair, which was usually found in some stylish updo for work, flowed freely over her shoulders. The usual business attire was replaced with a green wrap dress, which Dean had already begun to imagine unwrapping. It wasn’t that Dean had never seen Claire outside of work. Since they started dating, Dean made it a point to take Claire out places whenever they had time to squeeze in while they were on the road. They weren’t the first people in the business to have a relationship on the road. Others had been through the same thing, dealt with the lack of privacy at times, the fans who asked for autographs during dinner. They made it work just like everyone else. However, the fact that they were a couple days away from the job, with a house by the beach just for two, and Claire’s sweet smile aimed at him and him alone… There was a freedom there. One that wasn’t always present on the road.

“I think a man like me could do some serious damage in a place like this.”

The tour of the house had been a rushed one. Claire tried to be the perfect hostess, tried to inform him off all the rooms on each floor, but Dean was much more interested in one specific room. He hurried the tour along in his own way. A caress down her back, a light kiss against her neck… When those attempts didn’t work, Dean went with a more direct route. That was how Claire ended up flung over his shoulder in a fit of laughter as he hauled her upstairs in search of the master bedroom. His luggage forgotten downstairs, Dean smiled as he nudged open the right door with his boot and stepped into the room. Light still streamed through the sheer curtains as he dropped Claire lightly onto the mattress.

“I would have shown you this room eventually,” Claire told him as she leaned back on her elbows. She watched Dean shrug out of his leather jacket. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“You know what happens when I set my mind on something, right?” Dean tossed his jacket onto the dresser nearby before he moved to cover Claire’s body with his own. “I don’t stop ‘til I get what I want.”

“Your diligence is greatly appreciated.”

‘Appreciated’ was definitely one way to describe it. Dean grinned as he felt Claire’s hands glide down his front and took hold of the buckle of his belt. Nine months of being in each other’s bed and Dean still enjoyed the lead up to the big dance. He liked the haze of lust that formed in Claire’s eyes as she worked to undo his belt buckle, enjoyed knowing that he was the one who made it happen. Dean’s fingers teased her inner thigh as his hand traveled up her leg. He slid up the hem of her dress as she pushed his jeans down over his hips.

“Dean,” he heard Claire sigh, “I'm vibrating.”

“I know,” he murmured as he buried his face into the crook of her neck, “It’s awesome.”

“No,” Claire told him with a breathy laugh, “Dean, my phone is vibrating.”

Dean groaned as he sat up slightly and gave Claire some space. He watched as she fished her hand into the pocket of her dress and pulled her phone out. Pockets in dresses should be illegal. At least that was the thought that ran through his mind in that moment. She glanced at the screen before an apologetic look was sent his way.

“Five minutes,” Claire said. When Dean cocked an unconvinced eyebrow, she amended the words. “Ten, fifteen tops.” Dean rolled off of her and onto his back before he watched Claire slip off the mattress. He tugged his jeans back over his hips, slid the belt buckle back into place once he did.  Claire leaned in to place a quick kiss to his lips. “Settle in, okay? Make yourself at home and I’ll be right back.”

She answered the ringing phone with her professional tone. The voice he was used to hearing in the halls of arenas. Dean watched as she made her way out of the room and towards another room nearby. He assumed it was an office, but he really couldn't be sure since he bypassed all the rooms on his mission to get to the bedroom. Sighing, Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, shook off the ruined moment. It wasn't like there wouldn't be others. While Claire went about her business conversation, Dean made his way back to the first floor. He collected his luggage, brought them back up to the room. There was the initial urge to dump his crap onto the bed, an act he would do whenever he checked into a hotel room. Instead, Dean moved towards the closet. He rolled his luggage into the walk-in closet, scanned the large space. As expected,  everything had a place. Claire liked order in her life. Lord knows why she decided to pair up with a mess like him, but he knew the last thing to get her back into the mood was to walk in and see his mess. Not that he couldn't get her there eventually, but he knew which battles to pick.

Dean bent down to slide the bags into the open space beneath the coats when something caught his eye. It wasn't the sight of a cardboard box that drew his attention, but rather the fact that the top of the box wasn’t placed properly on top. Items inside threatened to spill out, which was something Dean didn't expect possible when it came to his neat freak of a girlfriend. Curiosity pulled at him, lured him in until Dean had drew the box out. The decision to do so was met with instant regret when he saw what was inside.

The first thing he saw was Sami Zayn smiling at him. His image was the first in the stack of photos. Beneath were several items, from old wedding magazines to little trinkets most likely collected over time. Over the years Claire and Zayn were together. A reminder. Of what? Dean didn't know. Of good times? Bad? Or was it a reminder of what she lost and, in turn, what she had to settle with because of that loss? The pit of Dean’s stomach dropped at the thought as he carefully slid the box back into place. Bags forgotten, Dean made a beeline for the door. He had only just stepped into the hallway when Claire made her way out of her office.

“I had to clear up some scheduling issues with Grace,” Claire said, “They pulled her off the road for an assignment, but she should be called in for WrestleMania. I think she's getting a little irritated being away from the routine.”

Her eyes moved over his face, took him in, and Dean knew she could sense something was off. Dean pushed back the rising uncertainty he had begun to feel as Claire made her way over to him. Her hand moved to rub his arm as she looked up at him carefully.

“You okay?”

It was a simple question. Dean knew his real answer wasn’t a simple one.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, “Just feeling a little... off. Flight and all that, you know? Might go for a run, sweat it all out of my system.”

“The beach is great for that,” Claire told him, “I’ll can get an early dinner ready while you're out. We can spend the night in and relax.”

She was completely unaware of what he did and what he saw only moments before. When she moved to leave, Dean stopped her. He took a beat before he closed the gap between them. She watched him, a small look of confusion on her face as he reached up to lightly brush his hand over her hair. He felt her hands slide up his stomach and rest against his chest. Carefully, Dean cupped the back of Claire’s head. Confusion melted into a soft smile as she felt his fingers curl and tangle in her long hair. It was same smile she always gave him in moments like this one. Sweet and welcoming… with the ability to utterly destroy him if he allowed it to.

“Dean?”

Claire’s voice pulled his focus back to the present as Dean felt her hands move to rub his shoulders. He dropped his hand from her hair, let it fall down to his side as he ran his gaze over her face. He was acting stranger than usual, but he had said that a run would get rid of the funk he was in. When he continued to stay where he was, Claire took the moment into her own hands. She cupped his cheeks with the palms of her hands as she moved to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“Have a good run, okay? I’ll be here when you get back.”

* * *

She’ll be there.

It was a thought he wouldn’t have worried about before that day.

Before he found what he found.

The beach run had been good when it came to shaking off his travels, but it hadn’t done jack shit about the thoughts that played on repeat in his head. A call to Roman had not been in the cards when he first began his run. However, Dean had begun to seriously consider it halfway through his time out on the beach. Dean couldn’t bring up what he saw with Claire. Not yet. Roman was his best friend though. His brother. Dean could tell him anything. It didn’t hurt that Roman was super married and seemed to have a pretty damn good situation going for him.

“I’m asking if you ever thought about an ex while you were with your girl,” Dean said, phone pressed to his ear as he walked along the beach.

“Brother,” he heard Roman say, “You’ve got a sweet thing going with Claire. Please tell me you’re not going to mess it up by thinking about some other woman...”

“I’m not,” Dean gritted out through his teeth, a faint level of frustration in his voice, “Things are good.”

“Then why are you asking about exes?”

“Just answer the question, man. People don’t think about them after, right?”

“Sometimes they do, I guess,” Roman replied, “I never did. When I got with my girl, she was the world to me. She still is. Nothing and no one who came before her mattered. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Dean ran his free hand through his hair in frustration, considered yanking a few handfuls out.

“No,” was the automatic answer.

Fuck.

“I don’t know,” quickly followed after, “Probably.”

There was a clear pause on Roman’s end. It was clear that he had picked up on Dean’s uncertainty.

“You doing okay, dude?” Roman’s concerned voice finally asked.

“I’m fine,” Dean insisted, “It’s just this whole situation with Claire and spending the few days with her. All adult and domestic and shit. It’s making me weird and... I don’t even know why I called, man.”

“You called because you needed to,” his friend told him, “You know you can talk to me about anything. No matter what, brother. You know this.”

“I know.”

“Exes are exes for a reason,” Roman told him, “If you and Claire start getting serious, then there’ll be a ton of weird, new experiences. It’s just how relationship go, man. Just focus on the now and go with it.”

Go with it.

Exes are exes for a reason. People broke up and stayed separated all the time. They went through whatever shit tore them apart and they found other people. Better people. Even after his call with Roman, Dean couldn’t seem to shake off the feeling that burrowed inside of him. Mostly because he knew that he wasn’t in the better people category. Not when placed beside someone like Zayn. Not when it came to a relationship, something real, with a girl like Claire. That was a damn fact, no matter how hard it was to swallow.

Just focus on the now.

Dean tucked his phone back into the pocket of his shorts. The sun left the sky in a mix of bright colors as it began to set and a breeze started to roll in. He tugged his shirt free from the waistband of his shorts and shook it loose. Dean slowed to a stop before he slipped into the top, tugged at the shirt until it fell into place. He raked a hand through his messy hair, pushed it back and away from his eyes as he started to head back in the direction of Claire’s place.

It was then that he saw her.

The woman was dressed for a run and had been stretching beach side as he walked. The look that was sent his way was one he had known well over the years. It was the same look he always had received when a woman wanted him. It was a look in the eyes, the angle of the body...  There was a slight tilt to her head as she gave Dean a once-over, arched a shaped eyebrow in his direction. A silent offer. There was a time when all Dean needed was that look before he went off with a woman to make some seriously fucking bad decisions. The idea whispered to him from the back of his mind. It was simpler back then. There was a freedom there. One that wasn’t always present on the road when in an exclusive relationship. A different kind of freedom. A reckless kind.

He wasn’t that kind of guy these days though. That was the thought he repeated in his head as he breezed past the woman. It was because of that Dean didn’t send a look back over his shoulder, didn’t check to see if the woman’s eyes continued to follow him as he passed. He kept that woman, that silent proposition, and all those old habits behind him as he walked. There was Claire, their relationship… and everything that came with it. Good and bad. There would be no flirting, no hook-up, no one-night stand.

He wasn’t that guy anymore.

At least he wasn’t trying to be.


	9. The Calm

February 22, 2016: Detroit, MI. Raw.

A couple weeks had passed since their time at the beach house and things had felt… off. There had been a shift. Maybe not one that was so blatantly different, but one that Claire felt. They continued to travel the road together, though both had gotten used to arriving at the arenas at different times. She knew they were working towards WrestleMania, that the past weeks and the upcoming weeks would be beyond busy. It would be all too easy to chalk it all up to that and part of Claire wanted to do that. Simply sweep it all under the run, explain it away. Dean hadn’t been cold to her. They still tried to make time for each other in-between shows. There was still a looming feeling though, an idea that there was something more to things.

Whatever the feeling was, Claire knew that she couldn’t afford to dwell on it too long that night. The Legacy of Excellence award was to be announced that evening and Claire had spent her hours before the show preparing the backstage areas. With Mr. McMahon scheduled to be in attendance backstage, everyone was supposed to be on their best behaviors and everything was expected to be in order.

That was why, naturally, everything went to hell hours before the show started.

The attack at the hands of Brock Lesnar had come upon his arrival. It had left the front of a rented limo wrecked and a Lunatic Fringe driven to the local hospital. News of the attack had broke on social media almost as fast as it had broke within the company.

“I wish I had known what happened. I would have come with you.”

Dean kept his phone pressed to his ear. The call from Claire should've been expected. He knew there was no way he could get wrecked in the parking lot and not have his girl hear about it somehow. Bruised up, he watched as the doctor stepped out of the room. Nurses would be around to check on him, make their rounds. Dean didn't plan on being there much longer though. Not when he knew exactly where Brock was and where he can get his hands on him.

“I know you would’ve,” Dean said, “I didn't want you to come.”

“Oh…”

Dean winced and it wasn't due to the beating. He knew that Claire must've worried, knew he probably could've told someone to let her know what happened. That was what people did in relationships, right? He wasn’t allowing that to happen though and he knew exactly why.

“Sorry,” Dean forced himself to get some semblance of his shit together, “That was pain talking. Of course I would've wanted you to come, but you got work to do and I don't stay down for the count for long. You know how I am.”

“Yeah,” Claire’s voice came soft through the phone, “I do know.”

“I’ll see you when I get out,” Dean promised her.

He disconnected. The phone call, from Claire… In every way possible. He knew he'd have to make a break for the arena, make sure Lesnar knew where he stood. Beaten down or not, Dean was going to drag himself back to the arena and face Lesnar. It was just a matter of time, but for now Dean simply let his head fall back against the pillow. He let his eyes fall closed. The upcoming weeks were bound to be one hell of a ride.

* * *

June 9, 2015: New Orleans, LA.

_ He woke to the sound of bed sheets moving, to the sound of shuffling across the hotel room carpet. The sun hasn't even begun to rise yet. That was when Dean knew it was way too early to move. His palm slid across the mattress, reached out to find the space beside him empty. Well, that wasn’t right. He groaned, stretched, and raised his head slightly to see exactly what was causing the noise… or rather who was causing it. _

_ “Huh,” Dean’s gravelly voice filled the room, “So this is what it feels like.” _

_ Claire looked up from the couch nearby. Though she was slipping into her shoes, her attention was drawn to Dean. She was fully dressed -- a shame, Dean would think later -- and wore a particularly focused expression on her face. Gone was the carefree woman he had spent a few hours with in his hotel room. No, the woman that was there now was the professional Dean would often cross paths with in the halls of arenas on a daily basis. _

_ “What feels like?” _

_ “Getting the slip,” Dean replied, “It’s usually me leaving before the sun comes up.” _

_ “I supposed that would be difficult to do in your own room,” Claire noted. _

_ “Difficult,” he grinned, “But not impossible.” _

_ He pushed back the bed sheet as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. There was no need to modesty in that moment. Dean had figured modesty was left on the other side of the door the night before. He smiled at Claire as she rose from her seat. She moved with ease as she approached him, didn’t miss a beat when she bent down slightly to pick up a pair of boxers from the floor nearby. _

_ “Don’t tell me you’re regretting last night already,” Dean groaned playfully as she tossed the boxers at his head. _

_ “I can’t say that I am,” Claire replied. She watched as the grin returned to Dean’s lips, held up a hand to stop him before he could speak again. “But don’t get too excited,” she added, “Because, while I did enjoy last night, I don’t think it’s smart to continue. We both have jobs to consider. It’s better to take last night for what it was and go back to the way things were.” _

_ “You’re killing my buzz, Red,” he told her as he slipped into his boxers, “Getting me all excited knowing you dug last night, then hitting me with the professional talk.” _

_ “Keeping things as professional as possible would be in our best interest,” Claire said, “I’m not ready for anything serious and you’re not the dating type. Do you really think we’d have some kind of chance if we continued on? ” _

_ Dean considered her words as he got up from the bed. He watched as Claire grabbed her purse, followed her in relative silence as they walked to the hotel room door. She was totally fine with wiping the slate clean. A clean, blameless escape where neither one of them would mention the events of last night ever again. It would be the perfect out for Dean, but for some reason he couldn’t shake another thought from his mind. _

_ “I never mentioned getting serious,” Dean said, “We can still enjoy ourselves and keep work where it belongs.” _

_ He watched the look of surprise hit her face as she turned to look at him. She remained where she was as Dean stepped closer to her, kept her eyes on his as he neared. While she looked like she had her doubts, Claire hadn’t outright shot the idea down then and there. That had to mean something, right? _

_ “We can keep things open, keep it interesting...” _

_ “It’ll never work,” Claire softly said as she placed her hand on the doorknob. _

_ Dean covered Claire’s hand with his own as he placed it on the doorknob as well. He considered trying to persuade Claire otherwise. Call him cocky, but he definitely thought that he could. In his experience, the women he fooled around with didn’t need much convincing. Claire wasn’t his usual type however, which he’d dumb as hell not to consider. She was someone who was probably used to being wooed and properly dated. She said she wasn’t ready for anything serious, but did that mean she would be cool with doing things his way? Hell if he knew, which was exactly why he chose to restrain his impulses in that moment. He had to play this situation cool, let Claire consider the option instead. _

_ He let his thumb brush against Claire’s wrist lightly before he dropped his hand to his side. Claire watched as Dean took a small step back, allowed her to open the hotel room door. He remained shielded by the door as she took a glance down the hallway and found it clear to leave. Claire stepped into the hall, lightly brushed a hand self-consciously through her hair as she did. Dean leaned against the frame of the door when she turned to face him. _

_ There was no ‘thanks for last night’, no awkward wave goodbye or promise to call. They worked too closely for cliché morning-after rituals. Instead, Dean flashed her a charming smile and left her with a few words. _

_ “Think about it, Red.” _

* * *

February 29, 2016: Nashville, TN. RAW.

“Did I do something?”

Dean had been distant, more than usual. Claire watched as Dean raised his gaze from the floor to meet her eyes. He had been beaten to hell and back at the hands of Triple H.  After the show had gone off air, she had watched medical hands escort Dean backstage. She had patiently waited as he got checked out, as he was given the green light. Waiting and watching… That seemed to be the go-to thing for her when it came to Dean these days. So much so that Claire’s own words came as a surprise to her.

Claire crossed the room to where Dean sat. She crouched down slightly in front of him, placed her hands against his knees as she looked up at him imploringly. Maybe that moment wasn’t the right time. The night had been a long one and Dean was hurt, but a part of Claire knew that she couldn’t go another night without asking.

“Was it because I asked you to stay at my place?” she asked him, “Was it too soon? Did I push it before you were ready?”

Dean watched as Claire searched his face. She hoped for a hint. Something -- anything -- that could give her some kind of peace in this situation. Dean wanted more than anything to tell her everything, to let her know exactly why things were the way they were these days. It was pride that demanded otherwise.

“You gotta help me out here, Dean,” Claire added when he remained silent, “I thought things were going well…”

“They were,” he stopped her, then corrected himself quickly, “They are.”

Dejected, Claire pulled her hands away. She had begun to straighten, but stopped as Dean reached out and took her hands into his. Slowly and painfully, Dean rose to his feet. He allowed Claire to help keep his balance as he stood.

“It’s not you,” Dean said, “I just… I got a lot of shit in my head right now. When that happens, I just keep to myself. It work it out in my own head. I’m used to alone.”

“You don’t have to be alone anymore,” Claire replied, “You know that, right?”

“I know,” he nodded, “And I’m sorry. I don’t want you to worry. It’s just that it’s easier for me sometimes so… I don’t know. Can we just let it be?”

Dean knew Claire didn’t understand a word of what he said. Even he had to admit to himself that it didn’t make any goddamn sense. He had a good woman who wanted to fix things, wanted to make things good between them. Even now, Claire still tried to make the situation work. He watched as she forced a smile onto her face, as she fought to keep an optimistic view.

“Okay,” she weakly replied, “Whatever’s easiest. I know you’ve got big things coming soon. I don’t want to rock the boat so... ” Claire shrugged lightly as she blew out a small breath of frustration. She shook it off, gave Dean’s hands a supportive squeeze. “I’m here. If you need me, please remember that.”

Dean nodded, a silent promise as Claire slowly released his hands. There was a beat of hesitation before she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Dean’s hand reached up to brush through her hair, felt the strands slip through his fingers as she pulled away. He watched as Claire quietly made her way out of the locker room, listened as the door clicked shut. Dean sank slowly onto the locker room bench. Alone again. The way he believed he needed it to be.

* * *

June 14, 2015: Columbus, OH. Money in the Bank.

_ Pain. _

_ Pain was inevitable. _

_ Dean had known this feeling his entire life. The physical, the mental… He had lived with it. In the shit housing he used to sleep in, on the road when he tried to break into the business. He had taken to pain like a bird takes to the skies. He adapted to it, thrived off it, and hell… Part of him even enjoyed it. The pain this particular night however had nothing worth enjoying. He had been within reach of his goals, of the title, of the dream… and it had all slipped from his fingers. Fucking literally. He had the gold in his hands one moment, but had lost it on the long fall down to the mat in the last few seconds of the match. Gone in an instant. _

_ After the match, he had limped his way back to the locker room. While the other wrestlers packed up and headed out to get some rest at the hotel, Dean had stayed behind. He had shed himself from the sweat-soaked tank he wore, tossed away the belt -- his favorite -- that had broken during the match, and kicked off his dirty jeans. There was a bit of peace as he showed off, rinsed the feeling of failure from his skin. He had cursed his fucked up leg the whole time he struggled into a new pair of jeans and had sat in relative silence since then, mentally attempting to will his body back to health before he dared to bend down and tie his boots. He had spoken to the crowd after the match. He had talked about life being unfair, about how he went out and took what he wanted, about losing fair and square and being man enough to admit it. All things were true, but damn if it didn’t hurt. He wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t tired, that his body was aching, that tears weren’t shed when the reality of it all came in. There would be no celebration in his home state. There was only an empty locker room and a long road ahead of him. _

_ Or maybe just the long road ahead of him. _

_ Dean raised his head up to watch as someone knocked lightly on the locker room door. His eyes followed as the door slowly opened and Claire came into view. It had been a few days since their encounter in New Orleans. She had sought him out for work-related conversations and side-stepped carefully around his advances each time. Ever the professional and true to her word, Claire kept her distance whenever they were around each other at work. She held a piece of paper in her hands and a faint, hesitant look on her face as she looked at him. He knew for a fact that he was a pitiful sight to behold, but he sure as fuck wasn’t going to admit it out loud. _

_ “Lemme guess,” Dean spoke as he nodded towards the paper in her hands, “Weekly itinerary?” He mustered up a smile when Claire looked down at the form in question. “You know what they say about all work and no play, Red.” _

_ “I plan weeks so you guys don’t have to,” Claire told him, “And my play is in the work.” _

_ Dean watched as Claire stepped further into the room. She broke her eyes from his as she looked down, folded the paper in her hands. Dean continued to watch her as she slipped the sheet into the front pocket of his luggage. _

_ “You haven’t experienced the right kind of play if you think this job is as fun as it could get, sweetheart.” _

_ “Maybe so,” Claire somewhat conceded as she moved to stand in front of him, “But that doesn’t make the work any less fun for me, does it?” _

_ Dean watched as Claire bent down slightly before she began to tie the boots on his feet for him. She did the task in silence, her attention and gaze on her fingers as she worked the laces into a neat tie. Dean’s eyes however were looking everywhere but her hands. As most often did when they had their special events each month, Claire was dressed up for the night. Her hair, usually tied and twisted back, was worn loose. She had traded her usual business attire for a pretty dress and heels. The sight of her tying his boots for him was completely foreign to him and almost wrong, but Dean couldn’t help but continue to watch her. When she finished, Claire set her hands on her bent knees and raised her eyes to look up at Dean. _

_ “If I knew a couple of unlaced boots was all it would take to get you in this position, I would have sat around like this sooner.” _

_ A smirk slid across Dean’s lips at his words and Claire smiled her first smile in that moment. She let out a small breath of a laugh as she rose to her feet, then found Dean attempting to do the same. He shook his head, brushed off Claire’s attempt to help him as he moved up from his seat. What little space that they had between them disappeared as he stood. He would be a liar if he said he didn’t hear the sharp intake of breath, didn’t see Claire’s eyes dip down to glance at his chest before they flickered upwards to meet his eyes. The gaze she sent him was unnerving to a degree, as if she was searching his face for something. Like she was trying to read deeper than the usual glance he was used to receiving. _

_ “I’ll be okay,” he finally said as he broke the silence that had begun to form between them. _

_ “I didn’t ask if you were,” Claire softly told him. _

_ “You didn’t,” Dean easily replied, “You were wondering though.” _

_ The last time they were in this position, Claire had told him that encounters like this one should not happen again. Dean had been more than open to the idea of continuing the kind of relationship that was… well, not actually a relationship. They worked in a demanding field. It was one where personal lives were often hard to come by and, if found, even harder to maintain. What Dean had suggested was something string-free, a small moment of relief between two people, something fun. Though it was unsaid, they both knew one more reason for such an arrangement. _

_ They simply didn’t want to be alone. _

_ Claire saw Dean’s hand reach out, felt his fingertips lightly touch her arm. It was a small gesture, a test of the waters. She was never one to act recklessly, especially in the work environment. There were words Claire wanted to say, points that probably needed to be made concerning what happened between them. Claire had set aside all of those things in that moment though. She chose instead to reach up and rest her hand lightly atop Dean’s shoulder. Her eyes fell closed as Dean leaned his head down slightly and let his forehead rest lightly against hers. There would be no hesitation that followed as Claire slid her hand along the base of Dean’s back to cup the back of his head. Lips sought out lips in an instant. Again was the sensation, the burst of need she felt when they first kissed. That feeling hadn’t seemed to go away, which was a problem. Dean Ambrose was a huge problem. One that Claire couldn’t seem to solve. Dean dragged his lips from Claire’s, left a hungry trail of kisses against her jaw and along her neck. He grinned against her neck as he listened to her shaky sigh, felt her shiver beneath his hands. Knowing he was the cause of it was all he wanted and yet it still didn’t seem to be enough. _

_ He wanted more. _

_ He wanted everything. _

_ Dean urged Claire closer towards him, felt her body press flush against his own. He also felt the sharp pain of his leg when he thoughtlessly shifted his weight onto it. Claire pulled back slightly at the sound of a painful hiss, a look of concern on her face. Dean cursed under his breath as he damned the pain and the broken moment. He reached out to take Claire’s hand when she began to pull away completely. _

_ “Don’t,” he breathed out. _

_ "Take the night to heal,” Claire told him, “I’m not going to be the one responsible for hurting you more.” _

_ “I can take a little more pain.” _

_ “That may be true, but I’d feel better knowing you won’t run the risk of further injury the next time we do this.” _

_ A smile slid across Dean’s lips. _

_ “We’re getting a next time?” he asked her, clearly pleased. _

_ Claire looked down at her hand, which was still being held by Dean’s. _

_ “I guess we are.” _

* * *

March 7, 2016: Chicago, IL. RAW.

“Part of what made tonight so special is just the fact that I got to… sort of feel like I was picking up where I left off...”

Claire watched from down the hall as Sami conducted his interview backstage. His re-debut, as some would call it, had been a surprise to everyone. Even her. That shock didn’t last long though. It had quickly given way to excitement. Sami’s return, his arrival to the main roster, had been a long time coming. It was something they had often spoken of when they both were starting new chapters in the business. She was excited for Sami, excited to see him. However, she must admit that the latter happiness was also for slightly selfish reasons.

“... it goes way, way deeper than that…”

Things had been left awkward the week before with Dean. There was a distance there that -- despite her attempts -- Claire couldn’t seem to get past. He was still Dean, they still managed to enjoy each other’s company when they were together. He was with her physically, but there was an emotional connection that felt strained. Lost. No matter what she tried, Claire couldn’t seem to restore things to the natural order. He had asked for some space in that regard and she wanted to give it to him. She did give it to him. The result of that began to feel isolating though. With Grace off the road and on a special assignment with the company, Claire was without a good friend to talk to. Because she was always friendly with those backstage, being without a close friend didn’t seem so strange before. However, with the growing uncertainty in her relationship, Claire felt a level of lonesomeness that didn’t sit right with her. She needed someone who she could bounce her feelings off of when it came to things with Dean… or someone who could get her mind off her troubles and share a few laughs with, if only for a moment.

“... that story is never over.”

When the cameras finished filming, Sami thanked everyone before he made his way off. He had seen Claire when the backstage hands were setting up for the interview and had wanted to seek her out when he had finished. It had been a couple months since they last saw each other. The Royal Rumble had been so hectic and the weeks that followed since then made it hard keep contact. Knowing that he would be on the main roster for good this time around, Sami wanted to make sure he made the absolute most of this chance. Both professionally and personally. He more than anyone knew how quickly the tides could turn in this business.

“It wasn’t enough for you to debut once,” Claire said when he made his way over to her, “You had to re-debut and send the whole arena into a frenzy?”

“I tried waiting to get my shot,” Sami smiled, “I figured this time around I’d take a more direct approach.”

Claire smiled as he stepped up to her with his arms spread wide. She stepped into his embrace, returned his tight hug with one of her own. There had been many days and moments where their hugs would lead to more, but the times had changed. They no longer were in the relationship they once had. That didn’t quite shake the familiarity that lingered though. Sami wasn’t sure if that would ever completely go away.

“Thank you,” Sami said when they broke apart.

“For what?” she asked him.

“For everything,” he told her, “You were there for me on my first day in the company and you’ve been with me ever since. Through all the important stages...”

“Don’t start thanking me for things,” Claire stopped him, a smile on her face, “You got here all on your own, because this got you here.” She reached out and poked him square in the chest. “It’s a big heart you got there, Sami. I knew the second I met you that all that heart and all that spirit was going to get you where you needed to be. So don’t place any of your achievements on anyone but yourself. Got it?”

She emphasized her question with a poke in his chest and earned a laugh from him in return. Sami reached up and took Claire’s hand into his own, squeezed it affectionately.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Neville had joined them, greeted his friends with a smile and a couple hugs. The group made quite the picture. All smiles, all fairly damn likable people. It wasn’t the whole group that drew Dean’s attention though, but rather two of the three members of that group. He watched from the end of the long hallway as Sami motioned wildly with his hands, deep in conversation. His words had earned laughter, wide smiles. People were innately drawn to people like Sami Zayn and Claire was undoubtedly included when it came to that.

Dean knew his actions -- or lack thereof -- when it came to Claire had taken a toll on their relationship. He wasn’t completely that far gone. There was still a part of him that couldn’t put aside the thoughts that crept in from the back of his mind, couldn’t ignore the fact that there was a box tucked away somewhere.

Dean knew one thing without a shadow of doubt.

He was losing her.


	10. The Storm

April 1, 2016: Dallas, TX. 

WrestleMania week was a non-stop rollercoaster ride. To say there was work in the ring and outside of the ring over the course of the week was an understatement. It wasn’t enough to say those in the business simply worked. They hustled from signing to event, came in and out of interviews, and all the while had to prepare for the biggest night in their business. Opportunities on the grandest stage of them all may flourish or fall to the wayside in a matter of moments. Lifelong dreams were made and crushed in an instant. WrestleMania was make or break for all involved. Being able to catch a breath was rare and those able to do it jumped at the chance.

Though she often worked backstage during the NXT TakeOver specials, she had been lucky enough to get this particular one off. The satisfaction of a job well done at the end of the week would be wonderful, but they had to make it to the end first. While Claire loved the work, even she had to admit that WrestleMania week was hell to get through. The night off would be a nice reset. She could watch amazing matches backstage, relax, and enjoy herself before the hectic schedule resumes.

Claire slipped into her heels, took a careful glance in Dean’s direction as she did. Things between them have been a little rough lately. Dean had retreated inside himself in a way, rationalized that it was just how he dealt with things. She had offered her support, continued to be around in case he wanted to lean on her. It was a tough time for the talent and Claire wanted to be as understanding as possible. However, it was hard not to believe something was amiss on a personal level.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to TakeOver tonight?”

Though his back was facing her, Dean bit down the urge to wince at her question. It had been a hard few weeks since Sami had joined the main roster full-time. Sami’s presence seemed to stick in the back of Dean’s mind, tucked in the corner like that damn box he had come across. TakeOver was bound to be a great show. All the specials were history in the making. It was impossible for his mind not to immediately narrow in on the fact that Sami Zayn was scheduled to have a huge match that night. A bitterness had begun to seep inside of him and he hated it. Hated the emotions it stirred inside of him, hated the reasons why they were there…

“Dean?” Claire’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“I’ll pass,” Dean finally answered, “Not really feeling up to it. Tired.”

He sunk further into his seat on the couch as Claire moved around behind him, continued to get ready. A faint sigh filled the silence that had formed between them again. She was upset with him, but was too nice to tell him. Part of Dean knew he was using that bit of knowledge to his advantage and that one day that luck would run out.

Apparently that day was today.

“Tired seems to have become the standard answer these days,” Claire softly said, “For when you don’t want to open up… or when you don’t want me around.”

Dean shifted on the couch, turned back to look at Claire. She stood by the bed, jacket in hand. He readied himself for this talk like he would ready himself for a battle. He mentally hunkered down as he pushed himself up from his seat. Rounding the corner, he leaned lightly against the back of the couch. He didn’t reply to her words, didn’t quite know what to say. Claire didn’t allow silence to fill the room again.

“I know this week is important,” she continued, “I understand that it’s entirely likely to be exhausted, but you’ve been tired for a while now and I don’t think it’s the work, Dean.”

“You don’t?” he asked, challenged her words.

“No, I don’t,” Claire told him, “I think it’s us.”

It irritated him that she nailed it on the spot, that she had seen through the crap and called him on it. It frustrated her that he was being unresponsive. Claire nodded, accepted the silence for what it was. She turned from Dean, faced the nearby mirror as she slipped into her jacket. Her mind wanted her to stay, to reach out, to try and understand. Her heart told her to take a lap, take a moment away from the upsetting emotions that had begun to bubble to the surface. Heart won out.

“Get your rest if you're tired,” she softly said, “I’ll go by myself and see you after.”

Claire grabbed her purse, her hotel key. She forced down the urge to tear up. They had never really had this kind of interaction before. Not while they were in this relationship. It wasn’t something she was used to and definitely not something she knew how to handle.

“It’s not really by yourself though,” Dean’s voice called out after her as Claire had begun to head towards the door, “Not if you’re trading one boyfriend for another.”

Stopped in her tracks, Claire whirled around on her heels to look at Dean. His eyes were cast downward, his stance off-putting. It took Claire a moment to wrap her mind around the words that came out of his mouth. Frustration turned to irritation in an instant. While Claire prided herself on not flying off the handle when it came to her emotions, she also prided herself on not letting comments like that one slide.

“Care to clarify on that one, Ambrose?” she asked him.

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Dean finally broke, “Neither are you. You really going to deny the way he looks at you? See the way you two are when you’re together?”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and fixed her with an unconvinced look. When the pieces began to fit together, Claire looked at him in shock. Shaking her head, she placed her purse down on the nearby table. Hands firmly planted on her hips, Claire took a step further into the room. She took a moment to gather her words.

“You’re talking about Sami,” Claire said, “Dean, he and I are just friends. That’s it.”

They were words Dean wanted to hear, but there was no satisfaction in hearing them. No lifting from the weight that was on him, no sudden burst of happiness. He had let the bitterness sit far too long for that. Instead, Dean hardened inside. The walls that had formed over time grew higher.

“I don’t believe you.”

Claire took his words, turned them over in her mind. She had presented him with her thoughts, with her truth where it concerned Sami… and he didn’t believe her. The urge to follow her heart came once more. To get some space between them, to air out the negativity that had formed between them.

“I don’t know how long you’ve been sitting with these ideas,” Claire told him. She fought to keep her voice calm and collected. “Or how long you’ve thought of me in this light, but you either believe me or you don’t… and clearly you don’t. So I’m not going to stay here and work to convince you that I’m being true to my word. Especially when I have done nothing to earn your mistrust.”

Dean watched in silence as Claire collected her purse once more. Pride demanded that he continue his silence, but ego forced him to call after her.

“Where are you going?”

Claire didn’t stop as she moved to leave, nor did she look in his direction when she replied. She had made herself available to him for weeks now. Tonight was not the night he was going to have her undivided attention. Not after what had been said between them.

“I’m going to the arena to watch my friends wrestle. Nothing more, nothing less.”

And with those words, she left.

* * *

Drinks seemed appropriate. Several drinks. Some of them alcoholic. Okay, most of them alcoholic. Dean knew how to hold his liquor. He definitely knew not to drown himself in it when shit got rough. He had that phase, knew better not to fall back on it during one of the most important weeks of his career. Bottles of beer had been steadily replaced by glasses of water during that time. TakeOver had long since ended when Roman found him. The sight of his best friend posted up at the bar was not a new sight for Roman. However, seeing him look as miserable as he looked was.

“Got a call,” was the first words that came out of Roman’s mouth, “She told me to take care of you.”

Well damn if that didn’t make him feel even worse.

“What the hell happened, dude?” Roman asked, “I thought things were cool with you two.”

“Not anymore,” Dean replied, “I don’t know what happened, brother.”

“I think you do,” his friend gently prodded.

“Found something awhile back,” Dean began, “Claire had a box at her place just filled with stuff from Zayn, then not too long after that Sami came up and... I don’t know, man. It fucked with me.” He fiddled with the straw in his glass, stirred around the ice that remained inside. “I implied something was going on, said I didn’t believe her when she denied it. She left after. I didn’t stop her. I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do now.”

Roman stayed silent as Dean spoke. He wanted to wait until everything was put out there before he spoke. His friend had definitely stepped in some serious shit and it was the worst time to do it. Taking a seat beside Dean, Roman motioned for the bartender nearby to refill Dean’s water. He needed to sober the fuck up in more ways than one.

“I heard once that there are two things that could ruin a relationship when it comes to guys,” Roman finally said, “It’s when they leave the house hungry or horny. Both tend to have us looking elsewhere, you know? Results in guys looking for more, trying to fill that void inside. Shit’s that simple when it comes to it apparently. You know what ruins a relationship when it comes to women?”

Dean sat, numb, as Roman spoke. The guy was in a happy marriage. He had a family, had that life. That meant he had to know his shit. Roman wouldn’t steer him wrong.

“It’s when they leave sad,” Roman continued, “It’s not a matter of filling a void for them. It’s a matter of making things right. Making sense of the sadness and fixing it whichever way it needs fixing. They’re a little more complex compared to us.” He reached out, placed a supportive hand on Dean’s shoulder. He gave his friend a light shake and hoped some sense fell into place. “Claire’s one of the good ones, man. You know this. Are you really going to sit here and let this be the end of it?”

* * *

Claire laid out the black buttoned shirt on the hotel bed. It sat neatly beside the jacket and slacks she had placed there just moments before. With the Hall of Fame later that night, Claire had to arrive hours earlier to receive those who would arrive. Talent -- legends and current -- and their family would come from all over to attend the yearly event. It was a night where the company honored those of the past. Special individuals that paved the way for those in the present and beyond.

The morning had been awkward. She had moved throughout the early hours in relative silence, save for a few words to Dean when she left earlier to organize the fan signings that morning. He had returned to the room in the late hours of the night as she slept. At least as he believed she slept. Given the state they had left things earlier, Claire had not been up to hashing things out so late in the night. So she laid with her back to Dean as he crawled into bed, waited until he had drifted off into his dreams before dreaming her own. Silence had filled the hotel room since then. Though the reasons why were upsetting, part of Claire found solace in the quiet. She had grown used to it in the past weeks. It was in the quiet where Dean found her.

The door to the hotel room clicked softly into place when he stepped further into the room. With a towel over his shoulder and a sweat-drenched shirt, Dean watched as Claire registered the sound. She kept her attention on the suit she laid out for him though, moved about the room in a busy manner.

“I have to get to the arena,” Claire instructed, as she picked up her purse, “But a car will come to pick you up later tonight.”

She would have left then and there without another word had Dean not stopped her in that moment. He reached out a hand, lightly touched hers when she began to pass him. Dean didn’t know what to expect or what he wanted to say. It didn’t matter much in the long run anyway. Claire stiffened under his touch, politely pulled her hand away from his when she did.

“I have to go.”

Dean tried to close the gap between them, heard Claire’s soft exhale as she stepped back.

“Claire…”

“We’re not going to do this now,” she told him, “Tomorrow is WrestleMania. There’s too much to do, Dean.”

Even on a good day, Claire was against letting the personal life affect the professional one. It wasn’t just about the job. Dean knew she needed some space. From the situation, from him… He had let negativity fester within their relationship. Whatever she needed, Dean had to accept. It had been less than a day since their conversation. Dean couldn’t help but wonder if she felt the same helplessness he experienced in that moment. How did Claire stand this feeling for weeks when Dean was barely able to sit with it for a day? Not being able to fix, to connect at a time where it’s needed. Dean was out of his depth.

“After tomorrow then,” Dean said, “After WrestleMania. You'll talk to me then?”

“I will.”

* * *

It was early morning on WrestleMania day and one of their last autograph signings was with the former Architect of the Shield. Though he had been out of action and off the road for months now, Seth was one of the more anticipated signings of the week. People, fans and talent alike, wanted to know how Seth was doing. In all honesty, Claire had expected to see a much different Seth Rollins than the one before her. Instead Claire saw a more subdued Rollins. Seth arrived before the signing and had stuck to himself for the most part since then. The man who would take up a room and draw all attention to himself seemed to have been replaced.

“You’re quiet. It’s really unsettling.”

Claire watched as Seth Rollins looked up from the phone in his hand. They sat in the green room, waiting for security to arrive and escort Seth to the signing and the waiting fans.

“How’s the rehab going?” she tried to make conversation.

“It’s fine,” Seth replied, voice somewhat clipped, “Why? What’d you hear?”

Claire watched as Seth’s eyes narrowed on her, scanned her as if she knew more than she was letting on. She wasn’t, which was exactly why she stared back at him in confusion. Claire knew he was still in recovery. She wanted to assume that was part of the reason he was acting the way he was. Some guys dealt with injury differently than others.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Claire said, “I just wanted to see how you’ve been.”

“You always were nosy like that,” he grumbled,  “I’m fine, by the way. Probably more than I can say for you.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked.

“I heard you’re dating Ambrose,” Seth scoffed, his eyes on his phone again as he typed, “That alone warrants some pity. I’m an asshole and even I know you can do better than that mess.”

When there was no reply back, Seth’s gaze raised to focus on Claire. She sat quietly across from him. Her attention suddenly focused on the skirt of her dress as she picked at nothing in particular. He clearly had touched a nerve and upset Claire. That was pretty much the equivalent to kicking a puppy. As a proud dog owner, that didn’t seem to sit right with Seth.

“That’s none of my business though,” he grumbled out.

The words faintly sounded apologetic and Claire watched him, clearly surprised, because of it. Shifting in his seat, Seth adjusted the hat on his head. Talk about feeling unsettled.

“What?” he snapped out.

“Nothing,” Claire replied, an amused look appearing on her face, “You’re just… different. Whatever you’ve been doing while off the road has been good to you.”

Seth seemed to crack a small smile at those words, though Claire could have imagined it. Whatever it was, it had disappeared as quickly as it came. Seth immediately shifted to a look of indifference again as he pointedly looked back at his phone in an attempt to ignore her again.

“Stop staring,” he told her, though the word lacked any serious bite, “It’s annoying.”

Claire bit back the small chuckle that threatened to spill out. Despite his prickly demeanor, interacting with Seth had been a small distraction and a nice change of pace in a rather upsetting few days.

* * *

WrestleMania had gone off without a hitch. The busy week had paid off as thousands in attendance and around the world witnessed the yearly event. While there were several things to look forward to post-WrestleMania, the conversation was not one of those things for both Dean and Claire. The ride back to the hotel had been relatively quiet, as was the short trip to their shared room. He had days to think about what he had to say, what he needed Claire to know. Even now Dean wasn’t sure if he was ready. There was an uncomfortable air between them, a growing nervousness as they moved about the area. Dean set his luggage down at the end of their bed before he began to sort through it, preparing for the next night’s Raw. He tried to sort out all the thoughts in his mind as he listened to Claire shuffle around the room. It wasn’t until he turned to face her that he realized she wasn’t organizing for the next night as he had been.

She had been packing her bag.

“Claire,” Dean breathed out in a soft plea. “Don’t.”

A wave of dread washed over Dean as he watched Claire roll her suitcase and settle it beside the hotel room door. He stood frozen beside the bed as she turned to face him. Though her expression was nearly unreadable, it didn’t take much for Dean’s mind to reach what was happening.

“Grace’s assignment is closing up soon,” Claire explained before Dean could think to ask, “She’s going to let me room with her tonight, drive towns with her for shows.”

“Putting space between us... it won’t work,” Dean said, desperation laced in his words, “It won’t make things better.”

There was a level of irony in Dean’s statement that didn’t go unnoticed between them. Claire smiled at the words, but the curve of her lips was one that mixed with sadness. As the reality of the situation dawned on him, Dean felt himself sink down. He sat onto the edge of the bed as he stared at Claire. She took a step in his direction.

“We weren’t ready, Dean,” she said, earnestly, “I don’t know when we will be or if we ever will. So we should slow things down. Maybe even just go back to how it used to be. Before any of this started...”

“I don’t want that,” Dean instantly told her.

“Maybe I do.”

He had an image of Claire in his mind. A soft, almost breakable woman who could and, in his mind, would be easily swayed away from him by another man. A better man, in Dean’s mind at least. In a better dream, it would be that Claire that would stand beside any of the shit he pulled. It would be that version of Claire that would continue to be with him, that version who would prove she’d endure whatever emotional pain he cause her.

The woman before him was completely different from the one he had fabricated from all his insecurities. She wasn’t a shrinking flower or someone who could be snatched or lured away in a moment of weakness. Neither was she an emotional punching bag that could withstand any weight or hit set upon her. It wasn’t her responsibility to absolve Dean of all his sins, to forgive all the wrongs he had done to her, to sit and accept loneliness or isolation in a relationship that should have only been filled with love and life. In his selfish attempts to self-sabotage one of the few truly good things in his life, he had forgotten who he was with. He had lost focus on who Claire truly was, on the relationship they had, on the things that should have mattered.

It was then that Dean saw Claire. Really saw her.

A perfect moment of clarity.

One that came too late.

“I put so much attention on trying to accept your past,” Claire confessed, “I was so worried about your history with relationships. Or rather your lack of. I wanted to try and take things at your speed, try to make sure I wasn’t pushing you into anything too soon. I didn’t even make room for the possibility that that wouldn’t be the issue with us. I didn’t even think about the idea that you would have a problem with me and my history… with that I used to have with Sami.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Dean replied.

“It does,” she told him, “It’ll continue to matter for however long you feel the way you do about Sami.”

Claire took a shaky breath as she stepped further into the room.

“Sami’s one of my best friends,” Claire said, “He’s also someone I loved very much at one point in my life. How could that not matter, Dean? Let’s say we forget this week. We forget the past month and beyond that, beyond all the times it felt like you were pulling away. If we were still together and you were to see me with him, would it bother you the way it does now? We work with him, Dean. We travel the same cities, spend our days living in the same hotels. There will be moments where I’ll have to work with him. Backstage, for signings, special events… There’ll be days we’d all have to be in the same room together. There will also be times where I’ll just want to hang out with my friend. Would you have doubts then? Would it still matter to you on some level?”

She watched as Dean’s eyes slid downward. They both knew the answer to that question.

“I could learn to deal,” Dean tried, “I could get past it.”

“You could,” Claire nodded, “Someday… maybe. Not today though and definitely not the past few weeks, Dean.”

Dean hung his head, let it drop into his hand as he let his elbow rest against his knee.

“Do you remember before we became exclusive?” Claire asked. Dean kept his head in his hand as she moved forward, took a seat beside him on the bed. “You and Roman had some kind of argument and you misplaced your emotions. We had an argument…”

“I told you I’d make a shit boyfriend.”

“It’s not that,” Claire told him. “You might not believe it, but you’re not as terrible as you think. As a boyfriend and as a man.” She watched as Dean raised his head, turned it to meet her gaze. “When I brought up that time, I’m bringing up what we talked about after that argument. I didn’t ask a lot of you then and I like to believe I never asked a lot from you now. All I asked was for two things...”

Dean remembered.

“Trust and respect.”

Claire nodded, that same sad smile on her lips. She shifted her gaze away from Dean, focused on the hotel room door and the luggage that waited for her there.

“You didn’t give us a chance to work through it, Dean,” she said, “You didn’t give me a chance.”

Dean could hear the tremble in her voice during those last few words. He watched as she pushed up from her seat beside him, took steps to place some distance from him as she worked to compose herself.

“And maybe I could have looked past that,” she continued, “But when I told you that Sami and I were just friends and you told me that you didn’t believe me…” Claire turned to face Dean. She scanned his face with sad eyes, tried to find something in him in that moment. Something she used to see in him, but couldn’t quite anymore. “The fact that you said that, the fact that there’s still a small possibility that you still believe that… I can’t pretend it didn’t matter or that it wasn’t said.”

Dean knew he had fucked up terribly and had let it go on for so long. The consequences of that had just now begun to form and he was too late to salvage what he had, much less stop it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, though he knew those weren’t didn’t carry much aid in that moment.

“I know you are,” Claire softly replied, nodding as she spoke, “It doesn’t erase how I felt in that moment though, Dean. That moment and all the moments before then. I tried space. When that didn’t work, I tried asking you what was wrong. All I tried to do was understand you, Dean. I did nothing but try and make this work, but it was never going to work if you weren’t going to let me in. I was never going to help you the way you needed me to if you weren’t willing to meet me halfway. You didn’t, Dean. You couldn’t. Instead you chose not to tell me any of what you were really feeling. Not when you first started to feel the way you did and not until it was too late… and it is too late, Dean.”

Dean pushed himself up from his seat. Though he accepted it would be nearly impossible to close the gap between them emotionally, he tried to close the space between them physically. He was stopped just steps before though as Claire shook her head, kept a few steps between them.

“To feel like a stranger in your own relationship,” she told him, “To know that you thought so little of me and the relationship we had… You told me you didn’t believe me and I’m not entirely convinced you don’t think that anymore. When I’m with you -- physically, emotionally, in all the ways I want to be -- that disbelief will be there and it’ll stay there for as long as you believe there’s something going on with Sami. I can’t be with you knowing that you resent a part of my life, that you resent me. I can’t be with someone who can’t trust me, Dean.”

There was a shame that Dean hadn’t expected to feel. It was one that burrowed deep, overshadowed all other emotions. It was the kind of shame that came with knowing the full extent of his mistakes. The shame in knowing he was not the kind of man Claire deserved, the kind of man he wanted to be.

“I never wanted this for you,” Dean confessed, “I kept all this shit inside for so long. I didn’t think of anything outside of myself. I didn’t think about you. Not in the way that mattered. I didn’t know how to do what needed to be done. If I did… it wouldn’t be like this. You gotta believe me.”

“I do believe you,” she replied.

“That’s the kicker of it all,” he admitted, “You believing me when I couldn’t do the same. I fucked up and the damage is done and… It’s too late, right? I’m too late.”

“You are.”

Dean took a breath, felt the tremble there as he did.

“What happens now?” he asked her.

“We go back,” Claire replied, “To before. Before… all of it. You’ll do shows and be amazing, albeit completely wild and dangerous to yourself and all those around you.”

Dean lips curved at the words and formed into a full smile when he heard Claire’s shaky laugh. Though it was brief, there was a lightness in that moment.

“And you?”

“Me?” Claire said, “I’ll go back to work. I’ll be around to make sure you get to where you need to go and help you with any complications on the road.”

“All work and no play,” Dean replied, though he couldn’t seem to make his tone as playful as he wanted it to be.

“My play is in the work,” she told him.

“I’ve heard that before.”

“I know you have.”

Dean watched as Claire stepped further away. He stood still as she moved towards the door, as she began to collect her things. There had to be something he could do. It couldn’t end like this, could it?

“Claire…” he tried to say, “Through everything, all the shit, all the mistakes… you have to know that I lo--”

“Don’t.”

Her hand on her suitcase handle, Claire turned to look at Dean. She knew what he was going to say. There was a pleading expression on her face as she shook her head.

“Don’t say it, Dean,” she told him, her voice heavy with emotion, “Not as a band-aid or a last-ditch effort to fix the problem. Please don’t let tonight be the first time I hear you say it. Not after everything else that was said.”

“I don’t know what else to say,” Dean admitted, “I can’t say goodbye, Claire. I can’t do it.”

“It’s not goodbye. Not really. It’s just… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow?” he asked, “Just like that? Just that easy?”

“I doubt it’ll be easy,” Claire replied, “But yeah, just like that. Say it to me tonight and tomorrow and the days after that… until things gets better.”

Or until saying it became easier.

Dean nodded as he let his eyes move over Claire. He looked at her, head-to-toe and back, as if he was trying to memorize her. The curve of her hips to the way it felt when his hand was in her hair. He wanted nothing more than to feel that again, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. No matter what Dean felt, he knew things wouldn’t continue while they were like this. Not while he still had issues that needed to be dealt with. Not until he fixed what he broke.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he carefully said.

Claire smiled, though her eyes carried a sadness in them. She allowed herself one last look, one last moment, before she opened the hotel room door. It wasn’t until she began to leave that she tore her gaze away from Dean. She disappeared from his sight as the door slowly swung closed. Though it had been all he wanted weeks before, there was a hollowness that stuck with him now. Dean was alone and it was his actions that brought him that result.

There was no tearful reunion, no last kiss.

Just regret and the possibility of tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: THE END.
> 
> Just kidding. It's not over by a long shot.
> 
> I know some of you (in the FF.net comments) had hoped Claire would stick by Dean and prove she's in it for the long haul, but there's only so much reaching out a girl can do, okay? Plus the majority of you reviewers (again on FF.net) seem to agree that Dean's a dummy for letting things get as bad as they did. It's Dean's turn to put some work into this relationship... or at least attempt to. Is it still okay to call this a relationship if they technically aren't together anymore? This chapter has been a long time coming and hopefully you guys aren't too mad at me for putting these two crazy kids through this mess. There's still the Sami situation to deal with. Not to mention the fact that Dean hadn't mentioned that pesky little box yet. There's more to this story still and I can't wait to continue it.
> 
> Thanks to all those who follow this story and thanks to those who left reviews over the past nine chapters. You guys are the best and seeing your feedback/reactions to the story gives me the kick in the ass I need whenever I sit down to write. You guys are awesome and I hope you like where I take the rest of this story.


	11. Reset

April 4, 2016: Dallas, TX. Raw.

Claire could hear the pyro going off in the distance as the show began. On most nights, she would be planted near a monitor to watch the first few minutes of the show. Though she had told herself that morning that she would focus on the work, there was a part of Claire that had caved to the personal. It was personal emotions that led Claire to the talent parking lot. She stood at the entrance, waited. Dean hadn’t come. The rational part of Claire’s mind wanted to believe that it was because of the night before. Because he had battled at WrestleMania, not because of what happened between them. She would give him that much credit at least.

She shook her head as she turned to head back into the arena. Back to the work. She shouldn’t have waited the way she did. Claire knew better than to do that. It had been her that firmly placed them in the predicament they were in. She had been unhappy and had sought out to solve the issue. She had bared her all to Dean, let him know exactly what she was feeling. What good would it have been to see him so soon after? No matter how much she may have missed him, it wouldn’t have done a thing to solve the issues between them.

She would see Dean whenever she saw him. Until then, she’ll get lost in the work. Claire knew that, no matter what was going on in her personal life, the work will always be there. She enjoyed what she did, enjoyed organizing travel plans, enjoyed having to keep track of the different events. It was a distraction and she knew it, but it was something she always could rely on.

It was that simple.

At least she hoped it would be that simple this time around.

* * *

Sami bit back whatever pain began to rise inside of him as the therapist evaluated his left arm. He watched as Grace Roarke ran trained hands over his shoulder, worked her way down his arm to his wrist. Dark brown eyes watched his expression closely as she worked. Her face remained an unreadable mask, which made it difficult to gage whether or not he had convinced her that he was well enough to work. Kevin had gotten quite the shot at him earlier in the evening, which put Sami firmly in the medical office. He knew in his gut that he wasn’t re-injured, but Kev had banged him up pretty good. Enough that he already heard officials talk about having him pulled from his match that night. It was the last thing Sami wanted. He couldn’t get pulled, not when he had a shot at becoming the number one contender for the biggest title on the main roster.  

“Rate the pain from one to ten for me.”

“About a two, maybe three.”

“It’s not beneficial to your cause to lie,” Grace told him, all honesty, “I’m here to document your condition, see where I’m needed when it comes to relieving what pain you have. After me, you’ll have to go through the physician. That’s just tonight too. Things will go along smoother if you cooperate.”

“I’m sorry,” Sami replied, “It’s really not that bad. Nothing more than a five. I can shake it off before the match tonight.”

“There is no match for you tonight.”

She had said the words so bluntly that Sami winced at them. Then again, it could also be his arm that caused that bit of pain. Regardless, Grace had caught the flinch. She settled back onto her seat beside the table where Sami sat.

“Sorry,” she mumbled quickly after.

The words came out awkwardly. She hadn’t quite gotten that bedside manner down the way others had. Any sort of further uncomfortableness had been spared when she noticed Sami sit up straighter in his seat, his eyes had focused behind her. Grace looked over her shoulder, cracked a faint smile as Claire hovered by the door. A friend to both, Claire was the common bond when it came to Seth and Grace. Though she had created friendships over the years with both individuals, as she did with most she came in contact with, Grace knew that it was Claire that often made situations more comfortable when others were around. Where Grace would rather chose to distance herself, Claire only sought to bring people closer. There wasn’t a single wonder why people, like Sami, often stood at attention around her.

“I’ll get some tape for that arm,” Grace announced, eager to leave, “A little insurance for the rest of the week.”

“Thank you,” Sami called after Grace as she quickly slid out of her seat.

Claire watched as Grace beat a hasty retreat and slipped out of the room. Grace had never been one for casual conversations. Claire had come to accept that human interaction in general wasn’t high on her friend’s list. Most of the main roster talent had grown used to it, but Claire knew Sami hadn’t been around long enough to. When her eyes moved back towards Sami, he had only gave her a half-shrug over the exit. Sami had a tendency to be comfortable wherever he was and with whoever was around. It was one of the reasons why they had fallen into a relationship so effortlessly.  He was, like Claire, always open and at ease when it came to other people.

“How’s the arm?” Claire asked as she settled into the seat Grace vacated.

“It could be worse,” Sami replied, “Nothing that’ll keep me down for long. You know me.”

“Yeah,” she admitted, “I do.”

Sami smiled at the words, reached out to take Claire’s hand when she extended it towards him. He gave her palm a soft squeeze. His eyes took in the sight of her as she sat primly on the plastic office chair. There was a smile on her lips as she looked up at him from her seat. At a passing glance, others would have seen the same Claire that came in every week. Polite, friendly, ready to work… a company girl to the core. Sami had more than glances at the woman before him though. The history there provided Sami with a little more insight when it came to Claire.

Though her expression was open on the surface, Sami couldn’t help but notice the way her smile didn’t touch the corner of her eyes or the almost too-poised way she held herself. Almost as if she knew what he had noticed, Claire dropped her gaze from Sami. She began to slide her hand from his, but stopped when she felt him reach back for it. His fingers lightly wrapped around hers, held on until Claire brought her eyes up to meet his own.

“What’s going on?” he asked her.

“It’s…” Claire wanted to say it was nothing, but she knew Sami. He would know better than to take that answer from her. “It’s just that Dean and I are taking some time away from each other.” She tried to keep her tone light and conversational, but there was no way she could mask the growing sadness that formed in her eyes. “He needs time to figure some things out. Dean wasn’t ready to accept certain parts of my life.”

“I don’t want to speak out of turn, but…” Sami sighed, threw caution to the wind with his words. “Dean’s an idiot. I can’t imagine any part of you or your life that could be so big of an issue for him.”

Sami watched as Claire’s face scrunched slightly. She pointedly dropped her eyes from his, let them circle around them before they awkwardly landed on him once more. Claire watched as the lightbulb lit, couldn’t help but release a sigh of a laugh when it dawned on him. Claire watched as Sami fell silent. She excused herself and began to rise from her seat as he continued to take in the new bit of information. It wasn’t until she neared the office door before she heard him speak up again.

“You know there’s a solution to it all, Claire,” she heard Sami begin to say, “If all that’s standing in the way is just me, then--”

“You were my friend long before anything else.” Claire turned to face him, leaned against the frame of the door. “All you’ve ever done was love me. Support me. So dropping you is not an option, okay? It never was.”

Because words had escaped him in that moment, Sami slid off the trainer’s table. He made his way over to Claire and simply slid his good arm around her. She leaned into his side, brought a hand up to give his hand a soft squeeze. They remained in the silence for a brief moment before Sami dropped his arm from her shoulders.

“If you need anything…”

“I’ll let you know,” Claire smiled, “Dean just needs to work things out in his own way.”

“And what do you need?”

“To get back to work.”

* * *

April 11, 2016: Los Angeles, CA. Raw.

“What the hell are you doin’, man?”

Dean didn’t need to break his gaze from his target to know Roman’s question was rhetorical. His friend knew damn well what he was doing. Roman slowly made his way up beside Dean, his eyes moved off in the direction Dean was locked on.

It was no surprise when Roman’s gaze found itself on Claire. She sat in catering, flanked by a continuously smiling Sami and a somewhat emotionally detached Grace. Her two friends couldn't seem any more different. However, when they were aligned with Claire, the trio seemed to cover all ends of the spectrum.

Dean had no-showed the week before, but fighting Brock Lesnar often warranted a night off. Hovering outside of catering though? There were no other explanations for that one. Despite the look of indifference Dean had on his face, Roman knew his friend was hurting bad beneath the surface. Dean had no idea how to see Claire and not be with her the way he wanted to be. Even knowing that, Dean knew he couldn't play the ghost game forever.

“You know you can always go over and say hi,” Roman suggested.

“It's not the right time,” Dean replied.

“There will never be a right time until you make it so, brother,” Roman insisted. He fell into step with Dean when the Lunatic Fringe turned and headed in the opposite direction. “You need to talk it out with Claire. Nothing will get fixed until it happens.”

“The problem isn't Claire,” Dean said, “It’s Sami… It's me. Until I can stomach the idea of Zayn and Claire, things will never be good.”

“Then you gotta find a way.”

“I am.”

Roman stifled down the heavy sigh he had as he grabbed Dean’s shoulder. It was easy enough to find a secluded place in the arena to talk privately. What wasn't easy was getting Dean to that place willingly. Roman guided, nudged, and eventually shoved a belligerent Dean out of prying eyes and ears before he turned his attention fully to his best friend.

“I love you, brother,” Roman said, “But you're not doing jack shit right now.”

“I don't have time for this--”

“Make the time,” Roman stopped his friend, “Because you need to hear it, okay? You got dumped.”

A flash of rage came to Dean’s eye. It was one that had Roman standing at attention at the sight of it. Guard up, he continued.

“It happened,” Roman calmly said, “There’s no changing that. You wanna get your girl back?”

“You know I do.”

“I'm not quite sure on that one,” Dean heard Roman say, “Because avoiding her and Sami isn't going to solve your problems. I know you're hurting, man. I get it.”

“You don't get shit,” Dean fired back, “I’ve done some fucked up things in my time. I've been cut open, dragged over glass, torn apart at all sides. But this? It hurts. The kind of pain that sits in the deepest parts of you, brotha, and it just eats away. All the things I should've done, should've said… It's just sitting inside and I can't get it out. That's just at the thought of it all. How the fuck am I supposed to deal if I can't even think without feeling some kind of way about it?”

“You're Dean fuckin’ Ambrose,,” Roman insisted, “You find a way. There is always a way. If you can't find it, then you create it. If something is in your way, you go around it or, hell, break through the damn thing. Whatever way it is, whatever you need to say or do, you make things right. By whatever means necessary.”  

Roman held his fist up, nodded when Dean brought his own up to connect.

“You got my back when the cops get called in?” Dean asked. At Roman’s stare, the Lunatic Fringe broke into a slow smoke. “Whatever means necessary, right?”

The Samoan badass sighed.

“I’ll have the bail cash ready.”

* * *

 

Claire walked with Sami and Grace into the parking lot after the show. There was a two-hour drive to the next town, then a week in the UK for RAW and Smackdown. Though she knew Grace was the more emotionally detached of the two of them, Claire couldn’t help but wonder if the therapist and Sami had agreed to travel with her following her break from Dean. Maybe ‘travel’ wasn’t the right word.

Shadow.

That was more like it. Her two friends seemed to have taken it upon themselves to keep her company at all hours of the day. It was Sami in the mornings. A text message where he would ask if she wanted to get brunch, if she wanted to try and squeeze in a little tourist time in new towns. After that, it would be Grace in the evenings. Meals after shows weren’t out of the normal routine, but it was the polite conversation for the appropriate amount of hours before bedtime. Claire could set her clock to how long her friend was willing to chit-chat. With Sami, Claire almost didn’t notice what was happening. Things were much more obvious on Grace’s end of things. She had felt embarrassed at first, like she needed to be coddled over a breakup. It didn’t last long though. Her friends had the best intentions in mind and Claire had to admit that she appreciated the effort greatly.

“You don’t have to pay your way,” Claire had told Sami as they slowed to a stop at the back of the rental car.

“I want to,” Sami replied, “Especially if you insist on being the one driving all the time.”

“I don’t drive all the time,” Claire said as they all began to stuff their bags into the trunk.

“You drive an unusual amount of the time,” Grace chimed in, “Most likely some kind of connection to your need to be in control of situations.”

“See?” Sami added, teasingly, “‘An unusual amount of the time’ translates into ‘a whole lot, if not all’.”

“Okay,” Claire shot back, a laugh in her voice, “Now you’re absolutely paying your way. Snacks, gas, and we’re not playing your music in the car.”

The sound of Grace’s laugh and Sami’s light-hearted boos were abruptly cut by the screech of tires. The trio quickly turned around as a black SUV stopped beside them. Their confusion only deepened as the door opened and Dean jumped out from the driver’s seat. The confusion wasn’t completely because it was Dean, but because his eyes were set on Sami.

“Dean…”

Despite Claire’s warning tone, Dean kept his light eyes locked onto the Underdog from the Underground. He kept them locked as he swaggered to a stop directly in front of the other man.

“Grab your bags, Sami-boy,” Dean said, “We’re going on a little ride.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sami replied as he sent a small look in Claire’s direction.

“Let me put it in different words,” Dean rolled over his concerns. He took a step forward, got directly in Sami’s face. He kept his tone even, but there was no mistaking the faint threat that was in the air. “Get your shit and get in the damn car… or I will put you in the car.”

“Dean,” Claire said, taken aback, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Tick tock,” Dean told Sami, “Get your ass and your stupid hat in the car, Zayn.”

Claire watched as Dean stepped away to move back to the driver’s side of the car before turning her attention to Sami. When he turned to retrieve his bags from the trunk, she knew exactly what he had decided to do. She sent a look towards Grace as Sami made his way over to the SUV, searched for some solidarity in this crazy matter, but Grace only shrugged and moved to get in their rental.

“Sami,” Claire quietly said, followed after him as he popped open the trunk to put his bags inside, “Are you sure about this?”

“I’m pretty sure,” Sami replied and, upon second thought, added, “Like… almost sure. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“What’s the worst that can happen when you’re sitting in a car with Dean, driving at top speed on a highway?” Claire rephrased.

The look on Sami’s face would’ve been hilarious if the possibility of something happening didn’t seem very likely in that moment.

“If you don’t hear from me in three hours,” Sami finally said, “You’ll tell my family that I loved them…”

“Not funny,” Claire told him.

“It’s a little funny,” Sami replied as he bent down to grab his bags.

“Don’t worry,” they heard Roman’s voice call out from the backseat, “I’ll make sure your boy makes it to the next town.”

Claire shook her head as she left Sami’s side to make her way over to the driver’s side. Dean rolled down the window, propped his head against the car door as he watched Claire stop beside him. She placed her hands on the car door, leaned in slightly so she could speak as privately as she could to Dean. It wasn’t until that second that she realized this was the first time she had seen him since Wrestlemania. She needed a moment, a beat, to collect her emotions before she could focus at the task at hand.

“What are you trying to accomplish by doing this?” she finally asked.

“I’m getting you back,” Dean simply replied.

“By abducting a co-worker?”

“It just sounds weird when you say it like that.”

“Dean…” Claire sighed.

“I’m going to talk to him,” Dean said, “Him and me are going to be besties--”

“HEY!” Roman’s voice cried from the backseat.

“I’m gonna handle my shit,” Dean continued, “And when it’s all sorted out? I’m working my way back to you, babe.”

“This isn’t a game,” Claire said as Dean smirked at the reference he dropped.

“I know,” Dean replied. His smirk softened, then disappeared completely as he locked eyes with hers. “I never meant to hurt you, Claire. I know I did though and that’s on me.” He reached up, placed a hand on the door beside hers. He didn’t take her hand, didn’t want to risk the idea of her pulling away. So he let his hand linger beside hers as his thumb lightly nudged hers. “I promise I’m gonna fix this. You and me. I’m not gonna give up. So… don’t give up on me, you know? At least not yet.”

Claire took in a slow breath, considered his words. There were words that could’ve been said, should’ve been said, but the moment left as quickly as it came. Sami had made his way to the passenger’s side of the car. Claire remained silent as Sami slipped into the empty seat beside Dean. She took a couple steps back, away from the car, though her eyes were still on Dean.

“See you around, Red.”


	12. We Were Never Carved in Stone

January 30, 2013: Winter Park, FL. Full Sail University. 

_Sami Zayn was out of his element. He had spent years seeing the world, performing in countless matches. Good and bad, Sami had gone through it all. There were many nights that felt too long, other moments that didn’t feel long enough. What Sami was about to go through now though? It felt like a lifetime of waiting. All the blood that was shed, the friendships made and broken, the time spent away from family… It was all so he could stand in a WWE office and sign with the company. He rubbed at his hands nervously as he exited the meeting, took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves. It was all official now. Sami had worn his best buttoned shirt and slacks, shook all the hands that had stretched out to greet him. He had spoken with Triple H -- Triple freaking H! -- and signed with the developmental system, NXT. It was all so he could bring his talents to the main roster with time, work the same stage as his heroes. It would be a long road, but it was one Sami looked forward to. There would be no missing the opportunities that he could soon face._

_He would make the best of every moment, every match, every second he got._

_“Mr. Zayn?”_

_The voice -- confident, melodious -- eased into his mind. She stood by the door that led out of the building, a warm smile on her face. She wore a light cardigan over a dress that looked like it was made for summer walks. Her red hair was brighter than his and immediately drew the eye. Like the voice, the woman in front of him exuded confidence. It wasn’t the kind of confidence that intimidated upon impact. It was warm, lured people in. Sami had no other choice but to stand there like an idiot as she came forward, extended a hand out to shake his._

_“Sami,” he finally said, shook her hand, “It’s Sami.”_

_“It’s nice to meet you, Sami,” the woman smiled, “My name is Claire Peltier and I’ll be overseeing your tour this afternoon.”_

_“You’re…”_

_For someone who was known for coming into a new environment and getting a little too comfortable with his actions and words, Sami sure did find himself at a loss for both. His voice trailed off as his mind worked overtime to try and complete the sentence. It didn't help that the red-haired worker before him kept a pretty smile on her face as she waited patiently for his words. Smiling brought his focus to her lips and only seemed to throw Sami into another lapse of confusion._

_“From Talent Relations?” Claire offered, “Not what you expected...?”_

_“Yeah,” Sami replied, though he immediately corrected, “No! I expected someone. I just wasn’t expecting… You don’t look like someone who’d-- I am really screwing up this first impression, aren’t I?”_

_“Surprisingly, you’re not the weirdest first impression I’ve had in this business.”_

_The pair of them let out a laugh at the words. Sami knew his face had become a faint pink in his embarrassed state, but the air between them lightened. The awkward tension was relieved as Claire motioned for them to start walking, her smile still on her face._

_“And I do get it a lot,” Claire added, tried to amend the situation, “Not looking like someone who’d work here.”_

_“I’m really sorry about that,” Sami said, “Not sorry that you work here, but that I almost said that to you.”_

_“It’s okay,” she replied, “Between you and me, I’m still working on trying to fit in.”_

_“You’re a new kid too?” Sami asked her._

_“Yes and no,” Claire said. Sami quickened his steps, moved to open the door for her as they made their way outside of the offices. “I worked a little backstage for a few years, but coordinating with everyone and working in this specific capacity? I only just got the promotion a month ago. It’s a nice challenge though.”_

_“We’ll get through it together,” Sami replied, a chuckle in his voice, “The company doesn’t want me even touching a ring for the first couple months. Coordinating schedules with me should be a piece of cake.”_

_“They just want to make sure you and all the other signees get situated,” Claire told him, “I’m available to help with that process. I’ve got a few apartment complexes that are known for housing a few of the talent, then numbers for utility companies once you’ve decided on a place. The Performance Center is a few months away from opening so until then I also have a list of gyms in the area.”_

_“I’ll have to take you up on that.”_

_“You should,” Claire smiled, “Whatever you need, I’m here to help.”_

* * *

April 11, 2016: Los Angeles, CA. 

She wasn’t there to help.

Sami knew that and he still got into the car. Two hours to the next town and he was sharing a car ride with Dean and Roman. The Samoan powerhouse lounged in the backseat, a pair of headphones on his head and a cellphone to tap away on in his hands. The quiet that sat between him and Dean was only filled with the light volume of the radio. Though he joked around with Claire, Sami couldn’t help but carry a bit of concern over the situation. It wasn’t that he and Dean had a problem. At least that was what Sami was thinking. He had prided himself on the fact that he was nice to almost everyone backstage. Then again, Dean and Sami had one thing in common that could definitely bring about some kind of issue…

“We should probably pull over,” Sami suggested.

“What?”

“If we’re going to engage in fisticuffs,” Sami continued, “I think the smartest thing we should do is make sure it’s kept off the road. Keep it safe for others, make sure we find a nice stretch of road. I think it’s the most sensible thing to do...”

“Zayn--”

“Not that fighting in public is sensible, of course,” Sami kept on, “Because it’s not. At all.”

“I don’t--”

“Which, you know, is a little strange for us to say considering what we do for a living. However, if this is something that needs to happen and get out of the way, then we need to go about it the right way…”

“Sami,” Dean cut in, “Shut the fuck up for two seconds so I can tell you that we’re not fighting.”

“We’re not?”

The genuine surprise in those two words would have pissed Dean off if it belonged to anyone other than Sami freaking Zayn. Dean couldn’t really hold it against the dude for thinking something like a fist fight was going to happen, especially considering the fact that he had -- more or less -- forced him into a car ride.

“We can, if you want,” Dean replied, “It just wasn’t in my plans for the night.”

“Can I ask why not?” Sami asked, “Because, you know, considering everything… it seemed like the likely path to take.”

“I’m trying something new,” Dean said, shoulder jerked in a half-shrug. Plus it wouldn’t exactly help his case with Claire if he beat up Zayn on the side of the road, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud. “Consider it your lucky night, Sami-boy. You and me are gonna engage in some good ol’ conversation.”

Though Dean kept his eyes on the road ahead of them, he knew Sami had relaxed beside him.

“I’m an open book,” Sami told him, honestly.

“Yeah, I figured,” he replied, “But it’s not just you that I wanna to know about.”

Dean didn’t need to explain any further. Sami knew exactly what he meant by that.

“Would it really help?” Sami asked him, “Going down that road?”

Sami looked over in Dean’s direction, watched as the man beside him seemed to struggle with the answer. He didn’t blame the man for taking a second to think it over. Dean needed to be certain. Relationships weren’t always a walk in the park and they were even harder afterwards.

“I don’t know if it’d help,” Dean confessed, “It’s personal and none of my business, but it’s history. It’s her history… and yours… and I keep wondering. So, fuck it... Even if it doesn’t help the way I want it to, I need to know.”

Sami nodded as he got more comfortable in his seat. Dean wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t his business and it was incredibly personal, but it was a part of Claire. Also Sami himself, but he knew well enough that Dean was looking to find out about Claire’s past more than his. He supposed the Lunatic Fringe also sought out to silence a few of the doubting demons in the back of his mind by learning more about what happened years back.

“She was just so nice when we met,” Sami began, “Really helpful. It was a new chapter when I started in NXT. I was also a new chapter for her too, you know? It made sense that we’d become friends during that time. We got along really well. Still do...”

“How did you make the change?” Dean asked, “No offense, but you’re probably the most polite dude I’ve ever met and I really didn’t think you had the stones to lockdown a girl like her.”

“What makes you think I was the one who changed things?”

* * *

March, 2013: Hollywood Beach Boardwalk, FL. 

_“You’re always the one who does it!”_

_“I absolutely do not!”_

_“You love to be the driver,” Sami pointed an accusing finger playfully at Claire as they walked past the assorted shops on the boardwalk, “You never let me drive. Even when I offer, you still want to be behind the wheel. You want to be in the driver’s seat all the time. You got a problem, Claire.”_

_“It’s only a problem for you,” Claire replied, “Because you have control issues.”_

_“Me?”_

_“Yeah, you,” she laughed at the surprise that crept across Sami’s face, “I know there’s irony in saying it and it’s a whole kettle/black situation, but you always have to be the one with the plans. Every time we agree to hang out for an afternoon, you always have the suggestions and, more often than not, we end up doing said suggestion.”_

_“Okay,” Sami conceded, “So I suggest a lot and you drive a lot. Call it even?”_

_Claire rolled her eyes as Sami held out his hand to shake, an offer to wipe the slate clean._

_“Another suggestion,” Claire smiled, but shook his hand regardless, “But it’s a suggestion I will accept, because it’ll be an endless debate with no clear winner if I don’t.”_

_In the few months they had known each other, Sami had enjoyed hanging out with Claire. Sometimes it would be with a group of wrestlers or others who worked backstage at NXT. People would hold get-togethers at their places. Music, video games, food and drinks… The usual when it comes to social gatherings. It was a fun way to build a camaraderie within the brand. There were others days though. Ones where it would just be Sami and Claire. They’d get a quick bite to eat after shows or spend an afternoon doing something in town. It had quickly become part of their weekly schedules. Somehow they always found time to hang out._

_Hand still in his, Claire tugged him forward as she headed towards one of the shops. Assorted t-shirts and hats filled the walls and overflowed from tables. She released his hand as they slowed to a stop beside one of the tables, chatted with him as they looked over the items in front of them._

_“You’re going to have your debut soon,” Claire said, “Are you nervous yet?”_

_“Less nervous,” Sami replied, “More… excited, you know? It’s going to feel good once I get out there.”_

_“You should wear this out there,” she teased as she tossed a bikini t-shirt in his direction._

_“I don't think it would go over very well with the crowd,” Sami laughed._

_“You could go out there wearing a bathrobe and still get the audience on your side before the night is done,” Claire told him._

_“How do you know?”_

_“Because you're good in the ring,” Claire simply said, “And you're a good guy. The people should appreciate that.”_

_“Are you sure you watch our shows?” Sami asked with a hearty laugh. He picked up a neon pink hat and fit it onto Claire’s head, much to her playful chagrin. “Because, as nice as that is, it isn't the case with some fans.”_

_“Hey!” Claire lightly laughed as she ripped the hat off of her head, “I worked backstage most of the time. I never had time to really look at what's happening in the ring.”_

_“Maybe now that your role is different, you can try watching a match,” Sami said. He watched Claire as she dug through a table of hate. “Maybe you can watch when I debut... I mean, I wouldn't mind knowing what you thought of it.”_

_“I’d love to see your match.”_

_Because she could feel Sami’s eyes on her, Claire bit down the smile that threatened to surface. She kept her focus downward as she picked up a hat from the table. It was a black and gray flat cap. The pattern was extremely small, checkered. The kind of hat an old man might wear. Amused, Claire stepped closer to Sami, hat in hand. Claire rose up onto the tips of her toes as she moved to set the hat on his head. Sami bent down slightly as she fit the cap onto his head, felt her fingers linger for a moment as she did. She tried to ignore the way Sami sucked in a breath when she came close enough to him, the way a blush came to his cheeks. It was impossible to ignore the wonderstruck look in his eyes though. Though Claire let her arms drop back down to her sides, she remained where she stood. A warmth radiated from Sami as he smiled. The kind of smile that not only spread across his lips, but touched his eyes and made them sparkle. The kind of smile that inspired others to do the same._

_“How does it look?” Sami asked her, cheerfully._

_“Perfect,” Claire replied, “You should wear it next weekend.”_

_“What’s next weekend?”_

_“Dinner,” Claire told him, “Nothing fancy, but somewhere we’d enjoy. Maybe that taco place you mentioned a couple days ago.”_

_“I’m going to dinner next weekend?” Sami asked her._

_“We are going to dinner next weekend,” Claire corrected._

_“We’re going to dinner?”_

_“I’ve spent some time considering things,” she told him, “And I came to the conclusion that I wanted to go on a date with you.”_

_“I didn’t know I was even an option,” Sami confessed._

_Claire couldn’t help but laugh at the mix of confusion and excitement in Sami’s words._

_“I’ve never done this,” Claire honestly told him, “I had very solid plans to keep my personal life separate from my professional one. It’s worked for me for a very long time. I never used to like the idea of having someone who knows both parts of me, but you’re really nice and you make me laugh. I’m interested in you and I think you might have some interest in return so… I think we should go on a date. If you agree, of course.”_

_Despite the fact that Claire had tried to come about this as collected as possible, it was clear to Sami that she was nervous. He reached out and took her hand in his. It was a move meant to calm her nerves. Hell, maybe it was for the both of them. They stood in the silence with held hands, trying out the moment._

_“Maybe we should kiss,” Claire suggested, “It’ll make the first date go much smoother if there wasn’t the pressure of a first kiss at the end of it.”_

_“I’m sure it’ll go smoothly,” he assured her, “No need to plan that far ahead.”_

_Sami gave her hand a light squeeze before he let go. He took the cap off of his head, gave it an approving once-over. Claire followed as Sami made his way over to the register to pay for the hat. He didn’t take a bag. Instead Sami simply took the tag off and placed it back on his head before he and Claire began to move out of the store and onto the boardwalk again._

_“I wonder what everyone at work would think if we started dating regularly,” Sami couldn’t help but say, “Like, how would we even go about going public with that kind of thing? The guys in the locker room, the office…”_

_“Oh, I already have a plan for that,” Claire confessed, “If executed properly, things should go smoothly.”_

_It was Sami’s turn to laugh in that moment, this time for the sheer practicality of it all._

_“Walk me through the plan then,” he smiled, “I’ll follow your lead.”_

* * *

April 11, 2016: Santa Ana, CA. 

“Everything from then on just slid into place. The first times, the milestones, meeting families, moving in… We were close to begin with anyway so it just felt like a natural progression. It was... easy.”

Sami smiled at the distant memories that came up in his mind. From behind the wheel, Dean could see a clear contentment from the other wrestler. He understood where it came from, couldn’t be mad at it. He knew the kind of comfort someone like Claire brought into the lives around her.

“So what went bad?” Dean asked.

“Nothing really,” Sami replied, “There was no conflict. There was never anything like that with us. Everything went along smoothly. We were just so comfortable with each other like that.”

“Doesn’t seem so terrible to me.”

“It wasn’t at first,” Sami confessed, “When she had to go on the road with the main roster, we didn’t see any problem. When our schedules got busier and we had to spend less time together, we didn’t question it. We just did our thing separately and saw each other when we got the time. It worked for awhile, but eventually there came a point when we’d go days without talking or seeing each other and…”

“And that’s when you knew something felt wrong?” Dean tried to finish for him.

“No,” Sami replied, a small laugh in his voice, “That was the problem. All the time passed between us and it didn’t feel wrong. We were still close when we were together, but when we weren’t? It was like… I don’t know. Like we forgot to miss one another over time. Claire didn’t believe that should be how relationships should be. To be engaged and not miss who you’re with.”

“And then?”

“We did the only thing that felt right...”

* * *

February, 2015: Orlando, FL. 

_“Are you sure?”_

_Sami watched from his spot in the kitchen as Claire rolled her suitcase towards the apartment door. He glanced around the area, took in the space he once shared with her. Since Claire had been on the road on a permanent basis with the main roster and Sami remained in Florida for NXT, it seemed the most logical that he would remain in the apartment in town. Little touches she had brought into his life had been taken from their spots, placed in boxes, and shipped off. The big furniture pieces remained. Claire had been adamant in him keeping it, as she had more than enough at her family’s house on the West Coast._

_California to be exact. That was where she’d relocate to and Sami would be a liar if he hadn't felt every bit of the thousands of miles away in his heart._

_“I’m sure,” Sami said, “I already changed the accounts for the utilities to my card, already made sure I was the name on the renter’s insurance. I’m good.”_

_“I’m just checking,” Claire replied, “If you come across any sort of trouble with the lease--”_

_“I’ll be okay,” he insisted, “I promise.”_

_Claire took in a deep breath and tried to release the tension inside of her as she exhaled. She nodded, accepted what was to come in the next few moments._

_“I'm sorry,” she smiled softly, “You’re right. You’ll be fine. I’m in my worrying mode and I shouldn't be.”_

_“You can still worry,” Sami told her, “But you don't have to with me. At least not right now.” He matched her smile as he made his way forward. “I have lived on my own before you. It shouldn't be too hard to get back into the swing of things, even if you did make living together super easy.”_

_He slowed to a stop in front of Claire, slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He wanted to keep this light. There was no reason for any sort of bitterness. Even with a breakup between them, Sami believed they could keep this as amicable as possible. Friendly even. They were two people who valued that._

_“We’re going to be okay,” Sami assured her, lightly joked, “I mean, it’ll be weird knowing this isn’t your home anymore, but there’s no escaping that one. You don't have to go all the way to California to avoid me.”_

_Claire blew out a breathy laugh. It was the kind of laugh that relieved the tension inside. Tears threatened to come, began to well. Sami had been in her life in such a big way. How could he suddenly not be? Her mind knew the logical reasons. Her emotions still needed to catch up. Claire knew Sami had felt the shift when he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her. She allowed herself to curl into him, lean against his large frame as she pressed her head to his chest. Sami rest his chin against the top of her head. He held her in silence. It was the only thing he knew to do and they both knew it was what was needed._

_“I'm sorry,” she finally said after a moment._

_“Don't be,” Sami replied, “It’s natural to cry.”_

_“You're not crying.”_

_“Well, someone’s gotta keep it together for the team,” Sami confessed._

_Claire brushed quick fingertips under her eyes, wiped away at the tears before she looked up at him._

_“We had so many plans,” she said, “We were right on track, we had a future mapped out. You and me. We’ve never been the type to rush. We always take the appropriate steps. We think and move accordingly. What if we jumped to this conclusion without considering other avenues--”_

_“This is right,” Sami stopped her._

_He unwrapped his arms from around Claire and let his hands rest on her shoulders. He gave her shoulders a faint squeeze before he let them slide down to her hands. She held his hands as he bent down slightly to meet her level._

_“We never rush,” he said, “You said so yourself.”_

_If they didn't and still ended up in the same situation at the end of the day, Sami knew neither would survive it. He didn't want to risk the possibility of splitting on bad terms either. No, he could not fathom that idea. Not in the least._

_“You know what we have to do now,” Sami told her, a soft expression on his face as he spoke to her._

_“Walk me through the plan,” Claire replied. She reached up to cup the side of his face, brushed her thumb against the stubble on his cheek as she did. It was instinctive of him to lean into her hand faintly. The two shared a small smile as she spoke. “I’ll follow your lead.”_

_“The plan is to be happy,” Sami said. He laughed as he pulled Claire’s hand from his face, replaced the touch with a hug instead. Claire couldn’t help but smile against his shoulder as he gave her a small squeeze before releasing the embrace. “The plan is to do everything we’ve ever wanted to achieve. At work, at home, as a singular human being in this big world, or as a contributing member of society. Do everything and be everything and just… live the life we were meant to live.”_

_“Sounds like a really smart plan.”_

* * *

April 11, 2016: San Diego, CA. 

“Do you still care for her?”

Dean had waited until they reached the hotel, made sure Roman had got out of the car to get his suitcase before he asked the question. It had been something that Dean believed loomed over his and Claire’s relationship. It was a question he felt like he knew the answer too, but one he had to ask nonetheless.

The answer came as easy as breathing.

“Of course I do,” Sami replied, “Claire is… loyal and compassionate. She’s beautiful. Not just on the eyes, but she’s got that beauty that comes from within. The kind that’s created from a warm, caring soul. She’s an easy woman to fall for and an even harder one to fall out of, but… Well, you know that already.”

Dean nodded. It had only been a week and he felt like utter shit without her. He didn’t even want to entertain the idea of how worse it could get over time.

“I had asked if she wanted to try again,” Sami continued, “I don’t know if you knew that. When I returned, I asked about it. She turned me down, said that she was seeing someone else.”

Sami looked towards Dean, met his eyes. Dean didn’t need to ask who that person was. A feeling of dread formed in the pit of Dean’s gut as he processed the words.

“She never told me that,” Dean quietly said.

“Probably because she didn’t think it was important enough to share,” Sami replied, “Or maybe because you never asked. My feelings will change over time, like her feelings changed. That’ll be okay, you know? Because our friendship means more than any risk I’d be willing to take when it comes down to it.”

He left Dean to his thoughts for a moment as he slipped out from the passenger’s seat. Window rolled down, he leaned in slightly after he closed the door.

“Whatever I might feel for her, it doesn’t matter,” Sami confessed, “The kind of bond she wants and deserves… I’m not the guy who can give it to her right now. It can only come from you and you screwed it up. Whatever the reasons were, whether they were valid or not, they resulted in my friend in pain. Claire’s like me, Dean. She’s an open book. She’s the type of person who shares her heart and soul completely to those around her. You had that and you can have it again. All you ever needed to do was ask for it.”

Dean dropped his gaze as Sami disappeared from the passenger’s side window. He remained in his seat, listened as Sami moved to the trunk and retrieved his bags. The Ska-loving grappler had said the words with such ease. Was it really that easy? To simply ask for that kind of forgiveness, to ask for a second chance at it all? Even knowing how he had left things with Claire, Sami made it seem possible.

He unbuckled his seat belt and slipped out of the rental. As he rounded the back of the car, Dean locked eyes with Roman. All it took was a slight nod for his friend to know what to do. Dean slowed to a stop behind Sami, watched as his best friend said his goodbyes before he slipped away to give Dean more time.

“You’re an okay guy, Zayn,” Dean finally said, “You probably always have been, but I’m just getting around to accepting it so… you know.”

“I know,” Sami nodded, “All out of questions for the night?”

“I guess I am.”

“Mind if I have a couple for you then?” Sami asked him.

Sami watched as Dean moved to retrieve his luggage, waited as he set his bags down and closed the trunk. Dean set his hands on his hips, readied himself for whatever Sami had to say. The man had walked him through quite a few moments of his past with Claire. The least Dean could do was answer a few questions.

“When did it start?” Sami asked when Dean gave him the nod, the go-ahead. “Your feelings for Claire.”

“I don’t know,” Dean replied, “Not until recently. A few months. At least that was when anything started happening.” Dean shifted slightly under Sami’s gaze. A growing discomfort began to show. “Maybe… Maybe before, but I was kind of an ass to her and she never picked up anything I was setting down.”

“Not while she was with me.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” Sami asked, “Then why would you think it would be any different for you? Why did you think she wouldn’t give you and your relationship the same courtesy she gave me?”

“I don’t know…”

Sami took in the hunched shoulders, the lowered voice and gaze.

“I think you do,” Sami honestly told him, “I don’t mean to overstep and I hope I’m not, especially considering the night we just had, but Claire deserves more… and I think you deserve the same. You’re an okay guy too, Dean. I don’t think you know it though. If you do, then I don’t think you accepted it or think you should be one. That mixed with whatever you thought about me and Claire? I think that was your downfall.” He picked up his bags, fixed Dean with a sympathetic smile. “The past was left behind for a reason, Dean. Leave it where it belongs.”

“Forget the past?” Dean asked, “Just like that?”

“Sometimes it’s just that easy,” Sami shrugged, “I think it’ll do wonders for you. You should try it sometime.”

He just might.

Dean watched as Sami left him with a smile, a tip of his hat, and a few words to think on. His attention shifted as Roman made his way back over to him, felt his best friend as he nudged Dean lightly in the arm.

“No blood or broken bones,” Roman said, “Everyone made it in one piece. Proud of you, brother.”

“And you didn’t even have to deal with the authorities,” Dean replied, “Helluva successful drive considering our history.”

“Look at you,” Roman teased, “All grown up and avoiding situations that could lead to arrest.”

Roman’s smile softened as he gave Dean a careful once-over. His friend had been through a rough one and Roman knew the signs of it. Dean had done what he believed he needed to do. Roman could only hope that it was enough to settle whatever troubled his brother.

“So what happens now?” Roman asked as the two men began to haul their bags towards the hotel.

Dean didn’t need to think of the answer.

It came as easy as breathing.

“I’m getting my girl back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This might be the longest chapter I've written (so far anyway). I always had this chapter in mind when I was planning out this story. Sami and Dean -- Claire's past and present -- alone (with Roman nearby just in case lol) and laying it out there. Would Dean have been able to make peace with himself and Claire's past with Sami if they never took that ride together? I wasn't sure and I didn't want to leave it up to chance. Dean's lack of self-love and the belief that Sami was a threat sure made a mess of things. Poor Dean and Claire deserve to have a clean slate. That is, if Dean can succeed in getting that second chance. 
> 
> The end is on the horizon, friends! Whether Dean and Claire are together by the end of it... Well, we'll have to see.


End file.
